The Shadows Live
by Wandergirl108
Summary: Darkness lives on, and those who would choose it shall serve it forever. Originally a flashback in a thiefship I wrote, this took on a life of its own and evolved into something far greater. Rated M for gore/violence; also contains -mostly emotional- thiefshipping. This is mostly set in the Anime world, post-canon, but there are themes from YGOTAS in some places.
1. The Darkness Beckons

Marik stood in the desert alone, at the site of the gate to the afterlife that had collapsed after Pharaoh Atemu had moved on.

The site where the Millennium Items were buried.

It was a few days after that final duel. In the time since then, Marik had felt…depressed. Really, his entire family's existence had been focused on that one final duel and the events that would lead up to it. Now it was over, and the Ishtar family was free to live as they pleased. It was what Marik had always wanted, but…somehow, he felt lost. Neither his purpose in attempting to rule the world, nor his family's purpose to serve the Pharaoh, existed anymore. All magic and significance was gone from the world. What was his purpose now? His sister had made a place for herself in the world as a very successful archaeological entrepreneur, and her earnings gave the whole family a fair amount of luxury even if he and Odion didn't take on careers of their own (lucky bitch), but what was the point?

Everything that had ever mattered to him was buried under more than a mile of rubble.

But it was still there.

Surely, the power of the Millennium Items hadn't faded with the Pharaoh's departure from this world - that had never been the source of their power in the first place. Even the souls of the people of Kuhl-Elna hadn't exactly been the source - they had been a sacrifice, creating enough death in one place for the Shadow Realm to bleed into the gold. And yes, Zorc had been defeated…but destroyed? Marik couldn't believe that. Surely, the Shadow Realm still existed, darkness still existed, _evil_ still existed - Pharaoh Atemu had declared that darkness was nothing without light, but surely the converse was also true.

Something from under the piles and piles of rock called to him. He'd found himself here again and again every day, unsure what he was waiting for or looking for. Nothing changed from day to day. Nothing _would_ change. It was a pile of rocks!

_You could make things change,_ a dark voice in Marik's mind whispered then. He flinched, wondering if his evil alter ego had wormed its way back into his soul…but no, the voice hadn't been like that. And it spoke the truth. He had hands, arms, legs, muscles - he could move the rocks. It would take time, and effort, but what else was he doing with his life? Nothing.

Marik sighed, bent down under the hot Egyptian sun, and picked up a rock to carry away from the site. One chunk at a time, with his bare hands, he would dig. It would have to be his bare hands - he couldn't draw attention to what he was doing. His sister, especially, couldn't find out that he was chasing what he should have left behind.

~o~

Marik went out to that old site during his spare time every day for several years. Had he had anything else to do with his life, he would have given up, but this was the only purpose he'd managed to find; it was all he had. It became a routine, a reason for him to get up in the morning.

Every day, he would get up at dawn, eat a large breakfast to get his strength up, and leave. Once his long outings became routine, Ishizu always insisted on making him take water and a small lunch with him. She only once asked where he was going, and when he dodged the question, she let it go. He could see how worried about him she was, he wasn't blind, and he made sure to be home before sunset so she wouldn't be too distressed. It was nice to know she cared, to feel loved…It was almost like having a mother, not that he would know.

He dug single-mindedly, ignoring he enormousness of the Herculean task he'd set himself to and determinedly moving one piece of rubble after the other. He didn't allow himself much rest, though he was careful not to kill himself. Most days he slaved under the merciless heat of the Egyptian sun; on the rare days it rained, he was grateful for the reprieve, though the moistening of the sand became somewhat dangerous, but it was uncommon. As he worked, he built up muscle, eventually becoming much more muscular than he'd ever really wanted to be. It was a good thing, though, because as he made progress, the work got harder.

At first, it was simple - pick up rock, carry rock away, put rock down. But, as the rubble started to clear, other problems presented themselves. Marik had to carry rocks out of the pit of rocks, he had to climb without his hands to remove any piece of rubble, and it became as much a matter of rearranging rocks as removing them, making a stable makeshift staircase for him to carry the rocks up. Sometimes boulders needed to be broken before Marik could move them, which he had to do with as little use of tools as possible, since he couldn't be caught with them, so as not to arouse his siblings' suspicions - that was the most taxing part of the job. What was more, the rocks he carried out had to be scattered so that it wasn't immediately obvious that someone was digging everything up. _No_ _one_ could know, he knew that.

It was a long, long time before Marik finally reached a layer that felt like progress. After five years, the rubble he carried out started to be chunks of wall with hieroglyphics carved on them - as only the walls of the lowest chamber had been. Pieces of pillars even turned up here and there. Here was where the gate had stood; he knew the Millennium Items couldn't be much further.

And they weren't…relatively speaking. It was another six months before the day finally came when the few rays of sunlight that managed to reach down into Marik's mine caught on something gold, seizing Marik's attention as he climbed back down the stone stairs for the trillionth time, intending to grab another rock.

Marik's breath caught, his exhaustion banished, hardly daring to believe it. Had he really, after all this time, found them?

He carefully picked his way across the field of rubble to the glimmer that had caught his eye, trying not to make any of the rocks shift. It seemed to take an eternity for him to reach that gleaming, golden light…

At last, he was there. He reached out, carefully taking hold of the shining object, and tried to coax it gently out of its resting place - so far down, he had to be extra-cautious of destabilizing anything, lest he be crushed under an avalanche of boulders. The item slid smoothly out of the ground: An ankh, with a key's teeth at its end.

The Millennium Key.

Marik forced himself to breathe. He'd found them. He'd really found them! After digging for so long, and so carefully, the project had felt endless, like he would be doing it forever - but he'd found them!

Now, where were the others?

He tucked the Key into his pocket, and gently started picking around in the rocks where it had been. Of course, the Items might have scattered, but if nothing else, they were down here, they couldn't have gone much deeper. Of course, they might be buried beyond the edges of the hole he'd dug, which would be just his luck, but he had to hope…

There was no more need to carry rocks out now, so he stayed down there, the underground depths cool, untouched by the desert heat. It was oddly relaxing, compared to the back-breaking work he'd been doing for so long. Of course, the constant working out had made him very fit, so he tried not to complain. _Wouldn't it be funny if I got out-of-shape now that I won't be doing this anymore?_ he thought. He started to chuckle, when another golden gleam cut through his thoughts. There, right under his hand, another golden object: A small sphere, marked with Eye of Wdjat.

The Millennium Eye. Another Item that Marik had no use for.

He tucked it into another pocket and resumed digging around, trying to contain his enthusiasm, lest he knock the wrong rock out of place and get himself killed. Two out of seven! The others were here, they had to be!

After another few long minutes of picking around, Marik thought he saw a gleam in a gap beneath a rock he was passing. He lifted the rock carefully, and was rewarded with a flash of gold. This one was bigger than the others, more unwieldy - Marik had to spend a couple of minutes loosening it from the ground.

The Millennium Scale. Possibly the most useless of the seven Millennium Items nowadays. It was still an Item, though, and Marik did some maneuvering to tuck it into his belt.

Marik nearly started digging around again, when he saw another gleam of gold at the bottom of the hole he'd just made by retrieving the Scale. Two in one place! What luck! Carefully, carefully, Marik eased it out of the earth. It was another small thing: The Millennium Necklace.

This one gave Marik pause. Ishizu had worn this Millennium Item. Holding it in his hand now inspired a lot of conflicting emotions. What would Ishizu say if she found out that he had dug this up? That part of history was supposed to be over, the Items meant to rest in peace, that was what she would say.

Marik hesitated, then clenched his fist around the golden amulet determinedly. What did she know? She had always been the good child, the one to simper and bow down to their father and their family's great duty to the Pharaoh. She had never controlled Marik, and she wouldn't now. He fastened the thin chain around his neck and kept looking.

None of the Items had responded to him so far, but the only one he'd ever really owned had been the Millennium Rod, and the Millennium Ring had housed his soul once, briefly. Those were the two he was most looking forward to finding. The Rod was _his_, and the Ring…well, he wasn't sure why he wanted to find that one so much, but whatever.

He dug around for a good five minutes after that, and was just about to give up and start picking at the walls when his foot accidentally knocked a rock out of place and revealed another gleam of gold. He forced himself not to lunge for it, to be careful…it would be so funny if this was the Millennium Puzzle, since he'd worked so hard to obtain it before, and now it was the only one left he wasn't interested in…

It was the Millennium Puzzle. Miraculously still intact, not one piece out of place, but it was still the second-most-useless Item, now that the Pharaoh's soul no longer lived in it. Marik sighed, took out one of the cords he'd brought just in case, and used it to hang the Puzzle around his neck. He'd fought so hard to wear it before, and now that he finally got to, it was useless.

He had to fight the urge to kick at the rubble-strewn ground in frustration. Five Items, with the only two missing being the ones he really wanted. It was as if the Items _knew_ what he wanted and were deliberately ordering themselves so that all seven would return to the world.

Maybe they were.

But now, Marik _couldn't_ leave. He'd found the other five, so now the next gleam of gold he saw _would_ be one of the two he'd been searching for. It took every ounce of self-control he had to continue being careful and methodical in his search. It got to a point where he was picking up rocks he'd picked up and set aside before to get at the rocks underneath them that he hadn't touched. It was irritating, but he couldn't stop.

And then, at last, another gleam of gold. Marik dug it out with shaking hands, carefully removing it from its resting place.

The Millennium Ring.

Not the Rod, but still, an Item he had a sort of kinship with. What was more - as he recalled at just that very moment - the Ring could track other Millennium Items. Marik stood, placed the center of the Ring on his palm, and focused on connecting with the magic inside.

There it was, that unearthly power that only a chosen few got to wield. He didn't quite know how to use this one, but he tried to send an impression of seeking the other Items to it, and it responded. Four of the five dangling spikes pointed at him and the various Items he was carrying…and one pointed away from him.

Slowly, carefully, Marik made his way across the field of rubble in the direction the Ring indicated. The point slowly went from horizontal to vertical, pointing straight down at a specific patch of rocks. Marik took out another cord, used it to hang the Ring around his neck, then crouched down and started digging.

A minute or two later, there it was: The Millennium Rod. _His_ Millennium Rod. The Item that could focus an individual's will through a lens of supernatural energy, exerting it upon the world.

Marik stood, gazing lovingly at the mystic scepter in his hands. It was cold so far underground, but the gold staff was warm in his grip. It was as though he had never lost it. It was ready, even eager, to do his bidding.

So…what was his bidding?

He'd found the Millennium Items. Now what was he going to do with them? He couldn't return home, couldn't let his sister see what he'd done…

He could sell them at a nearby bazaar, though. They were pure gold - apart from their magic - and very valuable, even as simple trinkets. Eye, Puzzle, Scale, Necklace, Key - those, he had to ditch now, as soon as he got out of this hole. The Ring and the Rod? He would…find a way to hide them. He could hide the Ring under his shirt, and the Rod…Well, he could just use it to make Ishizu and Odion think they didn't see what they were seeing! Oh, how quickly he'd forgotten just how many uses magic had!

He climbed out of the deep, deep pit he'd taken years to dig. On his way up, he was reminded, rather unpleasantly, that gold is a lot heaver than simple rocks - the Items were smaller than most of the rocks he'd dealt with, yes, but they were much heavier. He was panting and sweating heavily by the time he emerged into the evening light.

_Evening_? Where had the time gone?! He had never let himself stay out so late, his siblings would wonder where he was!

_I have to hurry home!_ he thought, on the verge of panic. _I can't raise suspicions-oh wait. I can just use the Millennium Rod to make Ishizu and Odion not care._ He relaxed. Magic was _so_ useful…

~o~

He pawned the five Items he had no use for off at prices the stallholders found impossibly cheap for such valuable objects - he couldn't bring back too much money without arousing suspicion, and he had to make sure anything he didn't want was gone as quickly as possible. In truth, he really didn't want to use magic on his family, though he really had no choice. The less he had to do, the better.

At last he got home, the Ring hidden under his shirt, the Rod tucked into his belt behind his back. Ishizu was waiting for him.

"Marik!" she exclaimed, running outside to meet him. "Where have you been? It's so late!"

Marik reached behind his back and placed a finger on the Millennium Rod, drawing on its magic - it was much more useful if it was pointed at whatever he wanted to exert control over, but he only needed a little bit of force right now to calm his sister down.

"I'm sorry," he told her, "I got a bit carried away riding my motorcycle and lost track of time." He forced a chuckle. "I always said I wanted to ride one far, far away - I got my wish tonight, it seems."

To his relief, she smiled. "Well, I'm glad you came home at all, then," she said, amused. "Come in, I saved some dinner for you."

Marik followed his sister inside. "Where's Odion?" he asked casually.

"Asleep," Ishizu replied over her shoulder. "I'd be in bed now myself, but I was worried about you…"

Marik smiled. "I'm fine, sister," he told her. "Thank you for worrying about me, but I'm fine."

"Good," Ishizu said, relief clear in her voice, "I'm glad. I didn't want to say anything, but you've seemed so troubled…It looks like a long ride on your motorcycle finally helped clear your head."

Marik nodded, grabbing the opportunity she'd laid out for him. "Yes, I…I've felt a bit restless since the Pharaoh passed on," he admitted. "But I think I know what I'm going to do now."

"Oh?" Ishizu asked, pausing by the door to the dining room to turn to him.

Marik wasn't sure where the next words out of his mouth came from. "I think I'll go to Domino City," he told his sister, "try to find something there. Being home is…well, it's hard to move on here. I think a city would be good for me."

Ishizu lit up. "That's probably a great idea," she said. "I'll get you a flight. When do you want to go?"

"Tomorrow?" Marik asked, a bit timidly. "I…I know it's abrupt, but I really need a change of scenery to clear my head…"

"Tomorrow is fine," Ishizu reassured him. "I'll put something together before I go to bed tonight. You eat dinner and get some sleep."

"Thank you, sister," Marik said with deep, heartfelt gratitude. "Good night."

"Good night." Ishizu gave her younger brother one last smile before walking elsewhere in the house. Marik carefully maneuvered into the dining room to eat dinner without baring his back to anywhere Ishizu might show up. Hiding the Rod from her had been easier than he'd dared hope, and he didn't want to ruin it.

~o~

Marik packed his bags in the dead of night, careful to hide the Ring and Rod between layers of clothes and whatnot. He would have to leave them in his checked luggage, as there was no way two huge gold objects could get through airport security without drawing attention. He wasn't taking a private jet like his sister used to, since he wasn't going to any particular important event, so he would have to commute. That was fine.

He slept restlessly that night, his dreams of darkness and shadows…and…a dark voice, calling to him from the void, telling him what to do…

When he woke up, he remembered nothing of what he had dreamed.

~o~

The trip was uneventful, the flight boring, and then Marik was back in Domino City with two Millennium Items in his suitcase. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going or what he was doing, but he got to the hotel room his sister had bought for him and took the Items out as he tried to plan his next move.

As soon as the Ring was around his neck, it started glowing. He hadn't called on its magic, but one prong shone, pointing in a seemingly random direction. _That's weird,_ thought Marik. _What on earth could it be sensing?_

It was afternoon, he had severe jetlag, his body had no idea what time it was, and he wanted only to follow the Ring's direction. He tucked the Rod into his belt and left the hotel, choosing to walk the streets and alleys, going in the direction he was being pointed.

Some time passed, during which Marik got hopelessly lost and didn't even notice. There was something here, something he wanted - he hoped he would know it when he saw it. Then, suddenly, he saw something he recognized: A head of long white hair, a blue jacket, tan pants…and the ring was pointing straight at them.

"Bakura?!" Marik exclaimed before he could stop himself. No, it couldn't be, Bakura was gone…

The young man turned around, and Marik realized his mistake: This was Bakura Ryou, the innocent boy who had been merely the host to the evil spirit of the Millennium Ring, the villain Marik had once attempted to team up with. There was no doubt, however, that this was what the Ring had been pointing him to.

The boy blinked his brown eyes. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked in a soft, friendly voice. "You look familiar…"

Marik took off the Ring, which had been under his shirt until then, and held it out to the boy. "I think this is yours," he said.

Bakura Ryou's eyes widened. "Th-The Millennium Ring?!" he exclaimed. "I thought that was gone forever! Where did you find it?" He reached out and took it - not because he wanted it, it seemed, but rather to look for some sign that this wasn't _the_ Millennium Ring.

Marik felt the magic in the Rod surge, reacting to something. "I found it buried in the ruins of an ancient tomb," he told the boy, taking out the Rod and pointing it at him. He added the Rod's magic to his voice as he said, "_It's yours. Put it on._"

Bakura Ryou's eyes went blank, and he obediently slipped the cord around his neck. The Ring shone, and the Rod responded. Marik recognized the feel of the magic now - it was true shadow magic, the kind that meant communion with the Shadow Realm. He gave the strength of his will over to the magic, unsure what he was calling on but more than happy to let it happen.

Bakura Ryou's soul slipped from his body, Marik could just see it go…and then, as the ring shone, something about the boy's body changed. The face became less boyish, the eyes less friendly, the hair a bit less tame. But it wasn't until Bakura gave an evil laugh - a laugh that Marik would very quickly grow tired of, in time - that Marik realized exactly what he had done.

"Thank you, mortal," Bakura sneered at Marik. "You've been most helpful."

Marik's hand dropped, his eyes wide, his fingers barely maintaining their grip on the Millennium Rod. "Are…you…?" He wasn't entirely sure what to ask.

Bakura crossed his arms and smirked, and Marik had a strange sense of deja vu - they had first met facing off in a back alley, and here they were again.

"Are you…Zorc?" Marik managed at last. "Or are you that thief, Bakura?"

Bakura laughed wickedly again. "What makes you think there was ever a difference?" he asked mockingly.

Marik blinked.

"I am both," Bakura told him, "always have been. Some of one, some of the other…Zorc lives in me, and I am he, though I am also not."

Marik shook his head. "So it's true," he said in wonder. "You _are_ still alive. I knew you couldn't really be gone…"

Bakura spread his arms. "I am no less a part of the world than the light," he said. "So long as there is light, there will always be shadows."

Marik nodded. "I thought so," he said.

Bakura smirked. "So tell me, Marik," he said, "having now sampled both, which side do _you_ choose to stand on - light, or dark?"

Marik thought. He had gladly banished his evil alter ego to the Shadow Realm and embraced the light…but was he happy being good? He thought about it for a good few minutes. No, he decided, no he wasn't.

And at last, he smiled. "I stand with the darkness," he told the evil spirit.

Bakura smirked again and extended a pale hand. "Well then," he said, "shall we?"

Still smiling, Marik moved the Rod to his other hand so he could take Bakura's. As he reached out, however, he hesitated again, his smile dropping. He thought of his sister, who had had risked herself repeatedly to try to talk him out of the dark path he'd chosen, who had taken care of him the past few years when he would have neglected to take care of himself, who had gotten him a plane flight and a hotel room on a moment's notice in the middle of the night. He thought of Odion, who had begged to take on Marik's fate even though he wasn't family by blood, who had carved markings into his own face to prove his loyalty, who had stood by him through thick and thin and kept his darker self from taking over completely. His family…If he went with Bakura now, he would never see them again - or, if he ever did, they would be on opposing sides. He would have to flee, go underground, possibly literally; a life of evil was not a thing to be chosen lightly.

Bakura's dark eyes glared at him mockingly, almost daring him to refuse. His intention was clear: This was it. Whatever Marik chose, from this moment on, there would be no turning back.

Marik took a deep breath to steady himself…and grasped Bakura's hand. "Yes."


	2. Chosen

Marik only packed what he had to, taking as little time as he could in the room Ishizu had gotten for him. Bakura stood in a corner, watching him with a bored expression, his cold brown eyes sending shivers down Marik's spine - and not shivers of fear.

He was excited. In truth, he had missed the shadows, a life in the darkness (ironically). It made him feel alive. Mixed in with his excitement, though, was a bit of regret - not for his choice, but for his siblings.

"Bakura," he said as he finished packing, "would it be alright with you if I wrote a letter to my sister?"

One white eyebrow lifted slightly. "Why?"

"I…I owe it to her to tell her myself, where I'm going," Marik confessed. "I might not have made it here without her. She should at least know."

Bakura's lips curled slightly into a wicked half-smile. "I suppose we could afford that," he said. "In a sense, I owe her myself, for the same thing."

Marik nodded.

Silence stretched between the two villains, and at last, a bit of awkwardness began to build between them. Marik wasn't sure what Bakura's plans were, or even what they would be working toward; but the evil wraith's eyes told Marik that he did indeed have a particular goal he wanted to pursue. He didn't doubt that he would be happy to help with whatever the diabolical plot was, but he wished Bakura would at least tell him what they were going to be doing.

But Bakura offered nothing more.

Marik finished packing his bags, and Bakura turned. "Are we ready to go, then?" the ancient thief asked.

Marik started to follow…and then stopped.

"No," he said.

Bakura turned around slowly, a menacing gleam in his eyes. "What did you say?" he asked dangerously.

Marik felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he held his ground. "No," he repeated. "I'm not ready to go."

Bakura's glare sharpened, and he took a step towards Marik, brown eyes glowing with malevolence and meeting Marik's violet, frightened ones. They stared off for a minute; though he was scared, Marik held Bakura's gaze.

"Are you having second thoughts?" Bakura darkly asked at last.

"No!" Marik exclaimed defensively. "I've chosen the darkness, and I'm not going back on that!" He hesitated, then said, "I just…I want to know…Why are you here?"

Bakura blinked. "I'm here to bring darkness and chaos to the world," he answered.

"Yes, but why are _you_ _here_?" Marik asked. "I mean, what do you want? I thought you wanted to destroy the Pharaoh - but he's gone, isn't he?"

"Yes…" Bakura said slowly. "Yes, the oh-so-mighty Pharaoh Atemu is dead and gone at last - in peace and happiness rather than agony and failure, unfortunately, but yes, he's gone."

"Then what do you want?" Marik demanded. "Who _are_ you? What do you want with _me_?" His fists clenched, the muscles that had grown far too huge from all the hard labor he'd been doing for the past few years straining against the golden bangles that covered his arms. "I know you're the one who led me to dig up the Millennium Items," he spat. "You were the voice that told me I could dig. Why?"

Surprise flashed through Bakura's brown eyes, as though he hadn't thought Marik intelligent enough to figure that out, and Marik allowed himself a brief moment of smugness at being able to catch the ancient spirit off-guard.

There was silence for a minute. Marik still refused to back down.

"I've dedicated my life to the darkness, turned my back on my family once and for all," he growled at last. "I think I at least have a right to know why."

Bakura remained impassive for a few more moments. Then, at last, he sighed in resignation and nodded. "I suppose you do," he conceded. He gestured to the room's bed. "Sit down, and get comfortable, there's a lot to this."

"I'm not sure how much there can be," Marik commented, though he went over and sat down. "The Pharaoh's gone, I can't imagine there's much left to do."

"And that's your first mistake," Bakura told him. "The ever-so-great Pharaoh was not the embodiment of Light, he was just one champion - one of many."

"Eh?"

Bakura smiled coldly. "Like I said: There's a _lot_ to this. You want to know who I am, why I'm here? I'll tell you. In fact, I'll do you one better: I'll tell you why _you're_ here, too. So listen closely."

Marik's face set as he readied himself to listen to whatever he was about to be told.

"Time began when Light and Dark first split apart into separate forces," Bakura started.

"Wait," Marik interrupted. "Don't you mean Light and Dark split into separate forces when time began?"

"No," Bakura said with exaggerated patience, "I mean, time began when Light and Dark first split into separate forces. It was that split that created existence: this world we're in right now, and the Shadow Realm, its counterpart - each borne of one force or the other, and filled with both. All around us, Light and Darkness struggle against each other, fighting a war for dominance that can never be won by either side. In truth, these two forces are equal in strength, neither one superior to the other, though they despise each other and seek only to wipe each other out. This is the meaning of existence.

"Most of the time, skirmishes between the two forces aren't all that drastic, and simply make up day-to-day life, both for those of us who live in this world, and for the Beasts who live in the Shadow Realm. That _is_ life. But sometimes, something happens that gives one force a particularly strong foothold in the workings of things, and this is when Light and Dark choose champions to fight wars for them. The massacre of Kuhl-Elna was one such event."

Bakura cocked his head. "Did the retired champions of the modern age tell you the story of my Shadow Game?" he asked Marik abruptly.

Marik blinked at the question. "You mean…Yugi and his friends?"

Bakura nodded.

"Yes," Marik answered. "They told us everything that happened - I mean, they told me and my sister and my brother."

"Then you know of the massacre at Kuhl-Elna, and of the…" Bakura's lips curled into a small smirk. "…lone survivor, of that massacre."

"You," Marik said, nodding.

"Me," Bakura confirmed. "Well, somewhat. That human soul is only a part of me now."

"Okay…" Marik said slowly.

"Don't try too hard to understand it, I doubt you can," Bakura said dismissively, and Marik bristled at the slight. "The point is, the people of that village were sacrificed 'for the greater good', those of the time who never had to suffer from it would tell you." Marik was intrigued at the disgust that laced Bakura's voice, but let him continue. "That wasn't good enough for the survivor. He felt only anger, and hatred, and pain - and the Darkness offered him a hand, and asked him to be one of its champions. He gladly accepted.

"He grew up to be a king among thieves in Egypt, while the common people lived their lives under the ever-so-benevolent rule of King Akhnamkaden, and then his son, Atemu." Bakura's voice dripped with sarcasm as he spoke of the kings' 'benevolence'. "You know most of the rest - how the thief king confronted Atemu at his coronation, the unrest that spread, the fights between the elite of both sides of the combat, the summoning of the Dark One, Zorc."

He paused, as though to give Marik a chance to ask a question. Marik took it.

"You've been talking about Light and Darkness like they're just forces," he said; "who or what is Zorc, then?"

"Zorc is a physical manifestation of the force of Darkness," Bakura answered. "There have been several of those throughout history as well - perhaps the most famous being Satan."

"Wait, Satan?" Marik asked. "How does Christianity fit with-?"

"There is truth to _all_ religions, Marik," Bakura said tiredly. "Some are different versions of the same story, others are different stories of the same conflict. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, it's not important in terms of what you want to know."

"Okay," Marik said hesitantly.

Bakura sighed and continued.

"Most of the real history happened as it did in my Shadow Game, with some negligible differences," he told Marik. "Everything, in fact, up until the ending, when Zorc was storming the Pharaoh's capital city, crushing and destroying everyone and everything in his wake, was more or less the same. It was the ending of the game that changed. At the end of the game, Atemu was able to summon the Light One, defeat Zorc once and for all, and bring peace and light back to the world."

"But it didn't happen that way the first time?" Marik guessed.

Bakura chuckled. "Indeed it did not," he confirmed. "The first time the battle happened, though Atemu was the chosen champion of Light, the light in his soul wasn't strong enough to call upon the embodiment of Light - not as the darkness in my soul had been strong enough to call upon the embodiment of Darkness. Oh, he wasn't a wicked man," Bakura added, seeing the surprise on Marik's face, "or at least not as far as most people are concerned. But he was proud, and arrogant, and aloof to his peers and even his superiors. He wanted to protect his people, he wanted them to be happy and thrive, but having that disposition alone isn't enough to fuel the light in a person's soul enough to make them a powerful champion.

"Instead, Zorc, with me as his champion, far overpowered Atemu. He was helpless to drive the Darkness back - there was nothing he could do to win."

"But he _did_!" Marik exclaimed.

"Actually," Bakura chuckled, "no he didn't."

Marik blinked. This was completely different from what he'd been told.

"There was no way he could win," Bakura continued, "and he knew it. I was far stronger as a champion than he, and he was no match for me. In desperation, he left his best spellcasters with their Millennium Items and their shadow creatures to hold Zorc back as long as possible while, in desperation, he consulted the Millennium Tome - the book that had held the instructions for creating the Millennium Items. And there, lo and behold, he found his saving grace."

"Wait, I'm confused," Marik said; "did he win, or did he lose?"

"Neither," Bakura answered. "He couldn't win; the only thing he could do was force a stalemate."

"A stalemate?" Marik repeated.

Bakura nodded. "Yes, a stalemate. You see, while the light in his soul wasn't strong enough to burn through the Darkness that approached, the Millennium Item he wielded held power beyond conception." He cocked his head again. "Tell me, Marik," he said: "Do you know what the Millennium Puzzle does?"

"What it does?" Marik repeated, confused.

"Yes," Bakura said. "All of the Items contain powers far beyond mortal man, and those powers have generic uses that all of them can perform to certain degrees, but each Item also has its own special power. The Key unlocks a person's mind, allowing passage into their very soul; the Necklace provides visions of the past and the future; the Scale can combine two Beasts into one greater one - useless nowadays, but that's its main purpose; the Eye allows its bearer to see beyond this world to the invisible forces around us; the Rod," He gestured to the golden staff in Marik's hand. "exerts an individual's will over another individual or the surroundings; and the Ring," He glanced down lovingly at the golden ornament around his neck. "can always find its brethren. Do you know what the Puzzle does?"

"No," Marik answered. "I didn't think it did anything, actually."

"Well, you couldn't be more wrong," Bakura told him, a wicked smile tugging at his lips. "The Puzzle is actually the most powerful of the Items, by far. Each individual piece is deeply imbued with magic, and put together, all those pieces form an item of power that is far greater than just the sum of its parts. Its power is so great, in fact, that no one has ever actually been able to use it to its full potential."

"But why?" Marik asked, alarmed. "What does it do?"

Bakura's wicked smile turned even more sinister. "Like I told you, both this world and the Shadow Realm are made up of Light and Dark, fighting endlessly with each other," he reminded Marik. "In fact, you could almost say that the many bits of Light and Darkness that make up the worlds are…like pieces that make up an enormous puzzle."

Marik's eyes widened.

Bakura chuckled, seeing the connections being made in Marik's mind through his violet eyes. "The Millennium Puzzle wields control over the very structure of the universe," he told Marik. "It is a great and dangerous power, one that has only ever been truly used once, by one man."

"Atemu," Marik half-asked.

Bakura nodded. "That's right," he said. "About to lose everything, his kingdom and world on the brink of destruction, as his elite spellcasters fought to hold off Zorc, Pharaoh Atemu desperately searched the Millennium Tome for a miracle, and he found one. With all the power of the Millennium Puzzle, and a great deal of favor from the gods, he discovered that there was a spell that could lock the Dark One and his champion away…at a great price."

"Himself?" Marik guessed.

"Indeed," Bakura confirmed. "The fabric of reality must remain balanced - if Darkness is to be locked away, some Light must also be sacrificed. The light of Atemu's soul might not have been all that great, but he was the Light One's champion, and the Light One and the lesser gods granted Atemu their favor in the fight.

"The spell was not perfect, however. The seal would eventually break, there was no avoiding that. It could, however, be strengthened if a specific key was worked into the spell - and hopefully last long enough for something to change. So, quickly, Atemu made preparations for the day when the stalemate would have to end. Praying desperately to the gods for their assistance, he bound part of his soul to a favorite tablet of his - one depicting a duel he had once held with his High Priest, Seto."

"The Tablet of Memories!" Marik gasped.

"Indeed," Bakura said, smiling as things came together. "He valued it very highly, as a memento of a fond memory of a competition between two good friends, and so chose it to be part of the spell. He then hurried out of the palace to relieve his forces, but on his way, he ran across a couple with a baby who were taking shelter behind the safety of the palace walls. It occurred to him that stone didn't last, and he had no idea how long the stalemate would endure; so, rather spontaneously, he begged help from the tiny family. He quickly told them what he'd done and asked them to guard the images on the Tablet of Memories and the secret they carried with their lives, and to…preserve it, by whatever means necessary, so that even if the rock crumbled, the spell could still be held."

Marik's hand reached over his shoulder to his back, touching some of his scars through his shirt. Bakura noticed, and nodded in anticipation of Marik's question. "Your ancestors," he told him, "the first tombkeepers. Atemu was so desperate, and the situation was so dire, the two new parents swore then and there that they and all their descendants would serve him with every fiber of their being. They alone were told the secret of the Tablet of Memories and given charge of it - not even Atemu's elite court would know of the power sealed there."

Marik's face grew hot, as he finally understood just how important and sacred the task his family had taken on had been. Not that it mattered anymore.

"And then, at last, Atemu exited his palace and walked towards the battle zone, where Zorc was just beginning to smash down the inner city wall," Bakura continued. "He told everyone he crossed paths with to spread the word that his army and all his forces were to retreat. People were afraid, but he was so calm and confident, so regal, that they did as he said." The spirit's voice twisted with mockery as he described the ancient king. "He got to the wall, and sounded an official retreat, telling even his elite court to fall back. Though fearful and confused, they all obeyed. Once the field was clear, Atemu strode out into the empty battlefield alone, me and Zorc across from him, prepared to sacrifice everything, though he'd barely lived to adulthood. It was quite possibly the most courageous and noble thing he ever did, actually. And it was…an impressive sight," Bakura admitted grudgingly. "He was just one man, not even a truly great man, yet he held his head high, his shoulders back, every inch a king, as though he believed he could simply order us to go away." He sighed. "Of course, we had no idea what he was doing, and in our confusion, we hesitated. That was our fatal mistake: Letting Atemu get close enough to us to work the magic without even trying to stop him.

"But hesitate we did, and Atemu called upon all the power of the Millennium Puzzle, and upon the gods, begging for their favor and aid - which they granted him. And with that power, the young king tore apart the fabric of reality, twisting it and reshaping it, obliterating all physical bodies in the surrounding area with a terrible maelstrom of force, cursing and sealing away the souls caught within. When the dust cleared and the sun rose on Egypt the next morning, all that was left of us were two golden objects lying in the sand: The Millennium Puzzle, and this." He gestured to his Ring.

There was silence for a minute. Then Marik asked, "What happened next?"

Bakura shrugged. "Atemu's long-lost cousin Seto took the throne, wed his love Kisara, the White Dragon, begat the next king, and life in Egypt carried on, as though the war had never happened," he answered. "Your ancestors fled underground, taking Atemu's final secrets with them, and no one was any the wiser. The rest is just history."

Marik closed his violet eyes, processing everything he'd been told. A lot of things that had once confused him made sense now - like why the Pharaoh had needed the help of an innocent boy, and how it had happened that a Shadow Game was created out of the past, and why his family had burned an entire tablet's worth of information on their backs every generation.

"Why are you here _now_, then?" he finally asked, opening his eyes to meet Bakura's brown ones.

"I spent three thousand years sealed in the same artifact as Zorc himself," Bakura told him. "After a while, our souls began to…merge. He's part of me now - and I, therefore, am the greatest champion of Darkness the world will ever know, far greater than any human could ever be."

"Okay," Marik said, "but why are you here _now_?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Marik, have you not been paying attention?" he asked irritably. "Champions of Darkness and champions of Light have existed throughout the ages, and all have done their best to bring as much of their respective forces into the worlds as possible. The ever-so-great-and-powerful Pharaoh Atemu may have retired and gone on to join his family in the afterlife, but that doesn't mean _I_ have to stop. Indeed, I yearn to spend as much time as the universe will allow me championing my side - I will stop only when I'm forced to. And I have not yet been forced to."

"Oh, okay," Marik said, "I get it." He didn't really. He sort of did, though, which was better than the complete and total confusion he'd had before. "So…what are you going to do?"

"You mean, what are _we_ going to do," Bakura said pointedly. "I thought you said you chose the darkness and have vowed to dedicate your life to it."

Marik blinked. "Well, I have," he said, "but I'm not a…a champion."

"Not compared to me, you're not," Bakura agreed coldly; "compared to me, you're utterly pathetic. But it's not really fair to compare anyone to me, and what matters is that Darkness has offered you its hand and you have accepted it. You're champion enough."

"Okay…so, what are _we_ going to do?" Marik asked.

Bakura laughed his evil laugh. "We're going to wreak as much darkness and havoc on the world as we can muster, by whatever means we can find," he told Marik. "Whether we get another chance to be part of one of the grand wars doesn't really matter - we can do whatever we can think of, right now."

Marik stood up, finally smiling as he felt like he at last had some idea of what was going on. "Well then, what are we waiting for?" he asked, grabbing his bag.

"We were waiting for _you_," Bakura said pointedly. "Are we ready to go now?"

Marik nodded. "Lead the way."


	3. Betrayed Again

A few weeks later, Ishizu was surprised to receive a letter in the mail from Domino City. A physical letter, sent by old-fashioned means. Her heart leapt when she saw it, though - she hadn't heard from her little brother in a long time, and she hoped it was from him.

She opened it, and immediately recognized Marik's handwriting. She smiled, relieved, and started to read.

_My dear sister,  
__I have found my purpose, and I suppose it's only fair to tell you. I'm sorry I had to hide anything from you, but I knew you would try to stop me, for the very reason I'm writing to you now. I want you to know that I love you, and Odion, and I appreciate everything you two have ever done for me. I hope you can forgive me for betraying you again; if you can't, I guess I deserve that.  
The Millennium Items have returned to the world by my hand. I kept the Rod, for myself, and the Ring, for my good friend Bakura; I pawned off the other five nearby, if you feel they need to be minded. And yes, I said Bakura - not the innocent boy, the dark Bakura. He too has returned to the world by my hand. We will work to bring darkness and chaos to the world, as we once set out to do. That is my purpose.  
The shadows live, sister, and I have chosen them, once and for all. I feel no shame, and my only regret is the pain this will cause you and Odion. I hope, for your sakes, that I never see either of you again - I don't want to have to directly stand against you. Please don't try to save me this time; I am happy now, and I don't want to be saved.  
I bid you farewell.  
Love,  
Marik_

A tear slid down Ishizu's cheeks as she let the letter drop from her hands. Her heart beat painfully in her chest, the rest of her body numb. Her brother…in the darkness again. She hadn't expected this. With her brother's darker self banished, she had thought this was over. Part of her wanted to believe it was a joke, but she knew better. She _knew_…

The Millennium Items. They were gone! They couldn't be back! But even as the thought crossed her mind, she thought back on the past five and a half years - how Marik had gone out every day, first thing in the morning, and not returned until evening; how he always seemed exhausted when he came home, though he tried to hide it; how his muscles had grown so huge, and she had wondered what he could possibly have been doing…

"O…Odion," she choked, her senses returning slightly. She looked around. "Odion!"

Her strong, quiet elder brother came at her call, completely unaware of what he was about to face. "What is it?" he asked her.

Ishizu searched for her voice. "M…Marik…sent a letter…" she managed, gesturing vaguely to the paper on the floor at her feet.

Odion's expression darkened as he registered that something was very wrong. Without a word, he bent down and picked up the letter. Everything was painfully still and silent, the minutes dragging by at a snail's pace, as Odion read.

When he finished, his hands dropped, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head in sorrow. He said nothing.

"Will you…come with me, to see if he really dug them up?" Ishizu asked, her voice trembling, unable to articulate any more. "I don't think I can go alone…"

Odion looked up at her and nodded. "Let's go."

~o~

Ishizu stood in the desert with her older brother, at the site of the gate to the afterlife that had collapsed after Pharaoh Atemu had moved on - the site where the Millennium Items were buried.

Except, they weren't buried anymore.

Heaps of dirt and rock were scattered around the site for a radius of several meters, and the site itself had become a huge, deep pit, with a makeshift staircase of stone winding around the edge, leading down into the depths.

Ishizu brought her hand to her heart, feeling faint. Odion looked at her and took her other hand, saying nothing.

"He really did it…" she breathed. "I let him…"

"You couldn't have known," Odion told her.

But Ishizu shook her head. "I should have asked him what he was doing!" she cried. "I only asked once, and he just dodged my question…I shouldn't have let it go, I should have pushed him! I just wanted to…trust him…"

"It was Master Marik's choice to betray that trust," Odion stated.

"Y…Yes…" Ishizu's gorgeous eyes filled with tears again. "I can't believe…I can't believe we've lost him again…"

"There's nothing we can do now," Odion said. "There was never anything we could have done. He has chosen his path, and it was his path to choose."

Ishizu was about to agree, when she remembered the other thing the letter had told her. "There is _something_ we need to do now," she said, trying to get herself together. "Five of the Millennium Items are out there somewhere; we need to find them. That kind of power can't be left to float around the world."

"Then let's go," Odion said, and he turned to leave. Ishizu followed him.


	4. Partners

Marik wrote his brief letter and sent it, and then he and Bakura ended up wandering. Each of them sort of hoped the other had an idea where to go, and each had absolutely no idea themselves. Bakura wasn't going to give Ryou his body back, or at least not anytime soon, and now that Marik had written and sent his letter to Ishizu, he had to completely cut himself off from any sort of connection to his family. That left them in the middle of the world alone, with no home, and no goal except to wreak havoc.

Luckily, Marik had kept the money he'd gotten from pawning off five of the Millennium Items.

At last, he gave in and asked. "Do you have any idea where we're going?" he asked Bakura.

"No," Bakura admitted; "I was kind of hoping you did. Didn't you have bases of operation when you were controlling your…what were they again?"

"The Rare Hunters?" Marik asked, surprised that Bakura would even remember that. "They disbanded ages ago. Or maybe they didn't, I don't know. They aren't my problem anymore, in any case. I have no need for trading cards now."

"Trading cards based on great and terrible wars waged between monsters under human command that nearly tore the world apart," Bakura pointed out.

Marik shook his head. "Yes, yes, it was all very glorious and exciting in ancient Egypt," he said dismissively. "But today? It's a card game. A harmless card game. For children, even."

"An odd thing to turn into a game for children," Bakura commented. "But I suppose it's far from the dumbest thing humans have ever come up with."

"Well, I wouldn't know, not like you," Marik muttered.

"So why did they matter to you before?" Bakura asked.

"Because of the God Cards," Marik answered simply. "I knew Pegasus had managed to capture the Egyptian Gods' essence in cards, and how they were needed to unlock the Tablet of Memories. Other cards were just to make things easier if other reasons to duel came up." He shrugged. "In any case, all my old hideouts have either been reclaimed by non-villainous people or…I don't know, maybe trashed. So we have nowhere to go."

"Wonderful," Bakura growled.

"But I do have some money!" Marik added. "What do we need?"

"Well…now that you mention it, not much, actually," Bakura admitted. "I for one don't really need anything at all. _You_ have basic human needs, though, so it's more-"

"Wait, what?" Marik asked. "What do you mean, you don't have basic human needs?"

Bakura sighed. "Well, I suppose I sort of do," he revised. "I need to be able to use this body to its full ability, so I'll need to feed it and give it rest sometimes." A scowl crossed his face that made Marik shiver.

"You…you're talking like you're not even alive," Marik noted nervously.

Bakura shot him an evil smile. "I'm not," he said. "Not really. I wouldn't expect you to understand - it's not something that would make sense unless you've spent a few thousand years with the closest thing to a body of your own you have being an ancient golden pendant."

"Oh," Marik managed.

"But whatever I might need, I'll just share with you," Bakura said.

"Oh, is _that_ why you're dragging me along?" Marik half-teased.

"I'm dragging you along because I wouldn't be here if you hadn't spent five and a half years digging me up," Bakura stated. "I literally owe you my life - or whatever it is I have - and it wouldn't be fair to abandon you. There _is_ honor among thieves - take it from one who was once a king among them."

"Can't argue with that," Marik admitted. "Okay, so, priorities…First things first: I want a new motorcycle."

Bakura stopped abruptly, and Marik only barely managed to catch himself and turn around, giving Bakura a questioning look. Bakura just stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"A _what_?" he finally asked.

"A motorcycle," Marik repeated.

"_That's_ your priority?" Bakura asked incredulously.

"Of course it is!" Marik snapped. "It was the first thing outside that old tomb that I ever saw and wanted for myself. I had to leave mine behind when I flew here, and now I can't get it back, but I feel weird not having one."

Bakura just shook his head, his bewildered expression unreadable to Marik. Instead of further protest, though, he just said, "Fine. If that's your priority, then mine is a knife."

It was Marik's turn to be surprised. "A knife?" he repeated.

Bakura crossed his arms. "Yes," he said, his tone mocking. "I hope that's not too much trouble for you. I wouldn't want to force you to spare any expense purchasing a bloody self-propelling bicycle."

"A motorcycle is _not_ just a self-propelling bicycle!" Marik exclaimed.

"Oh, no?" Bakura asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

"It's…a…" Marik grasped for words, discovering as he did so that he couldn't find any.

Bakura waited, his brown eyes laughing condescendingly.

"Fine," Marik grumbled, "I'll get you a knife. Anything in particular you want?"

"Oh, I can make do with almost anything," Bakura reassured him. "Just as long as the blade is sharp enough to cut someone's throat."

"Alright, I'll-" Marik took about two steps before he registered what Bakura had said. Then he stopped abruptly again and turned back to the still-unmoving pale figure. "Cut someone's _throat_?" he asked.

"Of course," Bakura said casually.

Marik blinked. And blinked again. "That's…not…"

"What, you've never killed someone just for fun?" Bakura taunted.

Marik's eyes doubled in size. "No!" he exclaimed. "I mean…I've sent people to the Shadow Realm sometimes, and threatened people, but…I mean…" He reconsidered. "I guess I kind of…stabbed my father," he admitted. "But I wasn't myself when I did that. Just for fun? No. No, I've never done something like that for fun."

Bakura chuckled nastily and resumed walking, passing Marik casually. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to break you in," he said.

"Wait, no!" Marik exclaimed. "I'm not going to-!"

"What did you _think_ we were going to do, Marik?" Bakura demanded as he turned back, his laughter gone. "Play card games? That won't work anymore! You said it yourself: It's nothing in the modern age! And we aren't going to be working directly against a specific individual who happens to like card games - or _any_ specific individual, for that matter - because we aren't even in a war anymore! We are simply agents of Darkness, set free to do as we please."

"And what if I don't 'please' to murder people?" Marik countered.

"Then I would have to wonder what the bloody hell you thought you were signing up for!" Bakura snapped.

Marik crossed his arms defensively. "I might not have…thought about it, all that much," he admitted. "But…do I have to _kill_ people, with my own hands?"

Bakura sighed, exasperated. "No," he grumbled, "I guess you don't. But you'd better find _something_ you can do in the name of Darkness."

Marik gave a noncommittal grunt, then kept walking. After a moment, Bakura followed suit.

~o~

They went for the knife first. Of course, knives meant for combat weren't exactly the most popular merchandise in the modern age, so they had to look. Luckily, being a city, there was a little bit of everything in Domino, and at last they managed to find a shop that sold hunting knives.

Marik watched Bakura admire the gleaming blades one by one, examining them from all angles, testing the balance and the sharpness with an almost captivated expression. If a blade was longer than his hand, he would caress the side, almost tenderly, as though entranced just by the smoothness of metal.

"What's your deal with knives?" Marik eventually asked.

Bakura glanced at him, a wicked smirk on his face. "Knives are pretty much the only weapon that have endured throughout the millennia," he replied. "Almost everything else has been replaced by some form of technology - I've watched nearly every other weapon known to man be replaced over the course of time - but nothing can take the place of a knife. It reminds me of how pointless mankind's endless pursuit of higher being really is; some things will always endure."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Again, it's not something I'd expect a mere mortal to understand, especially not one so painfully young as yourself," Bakura said dismissively.

"P-painfully young?!" Marik sputtered angrily. "I wasn't any younger than you were when your village got slaughtered when my father tied me down and carved up my back with a red-hot dagger!"

"Fair enough," Bakura conceded.

It wasn't until a few moments later that Bakura fully registered what Marik had said. Then, abruptly, he stopped his knife inspection and turned to look at Marik, as though he'd never really seen the Egyptian before. Brown and violet eyes met - such horribly clashing colors, but behind them was something mirrored in both: Pain. Great agony dealt to both of them in their youth in the name of Light. Their hatred of the world, their devotion to Darkness, their love for spreading chaos and misery, stemmed from nearly identical places: Light had ruined both of their lives, ripped their childhood innocence away and broken them down to within an inch of their sanity while telling them that they should be happy for it. They both wanted the world to know their pain, to suffer as it had made them suffer.

And for the briefest of moments, the millennia fell away, and Marik and Bakura found themselves staring at their own reflections, brothers across time.

Marik was the one to finally blink and look away. "Are you going to buy something or what?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably. "We don't have all night." For the sun had gone down while they'd been in the shop.

Bakura gave himself a little shake. "Right," he said, and he and turned back to the assortment of knives he'd been looking through. There was one more that he hadn't examined…but somehow, putting down the knife he currently held didn't feel right - he found himself suddenly attached to it. It wasn't the best knife of the lot, but it weirdly fit him. He considered for a brief moment, then decided not to over-think things. "I'll get this one."

~o~

It was too late to shop for a motorcycle.

"Did you have to take so long with the stupid knives?" Marik grumbled.

"At least _I'm_ being productive," Bakura countered. "All _you_ want is a toy!"

"Well, what are we supposed to do now, then?" Marik asked.

"I suppose that depends on how badly you need to sleep," Bakura replied. "If you can go the night without, we could wander around and find someone to kill - or whatever else we might come up with," he added irritably, seeing the look on Marik's face. "Or, if you need sleep, we could look for somewhere to rest. We need to figure out where we'll be staying anyway."

"We probably shouldn't stay here too long," Marik said. "Not with Yugi and his friends living here."

Bakura chuckled. "And what do we have to fear from a bunch of children?" he asked mockingly.

Marik blinked.

"They've _retired_, Marik," Bakura said, laughter still lacing his voice. "They're powerless now. We could tell them exactly what's going on, and there would be nothing they could do."

"Then maybe we should!" Marik exclaimed, brightening. "Wouldn't that be funny, since they've all retired now, and then we show up and say 'You didn't do anything!'" He laughed, _truly_ laughed, for the first time since he had banished his darker side to the Shadow Realm - and that was when he knew for certain that he'd made the right choice.

Bakura's eyes drifted down to the ancient pendant he was wearing. "Actually…that's not a bad idea," he mused. He considered for a few moments, then looked up at Marik and said, "I think I'll let my host go to school tomorrow."

Marik blinked again; Bakura was starting to notice that he was nearly always slow on the uptake. "I thought Ryou was gone," he said.

"Oh, no, he's still in here," Bakura told him, taking hold of the Ring and shaking it slightly so that the prongs jingled. "I could have sent him to the Shadow Realm with your help, but I decided to keep him around, just for fun."

"I don't get it, how is that fun?" Marik asked.

"Well, no matter where I go or what I do, I'll have someone to torment," Bakura answered. "Also, he might have other uses. You've already given me one idea: Using him to tell those children that everything they did was for naught."

"Why do we need him for that?"

"We don't," Bakura smirked, "but it'll be more fun."

Marik was silent for a minute, apparently thinking about this. Then he asked, "How will it be more fun?"

Bakura looked at him, his good mood plummeting. It took a whole two minutes for Marik to register that Bakura was displeased about something and start getting uncomfortable. Before he could ask anything else, though, Bakura broke the silence at last.

"I've teamed up with a complete and total imbecile, haven't I?" he sighed.

"Um…" Marik's response was more than answer enough.

Bakura gave another sigh, wondering how he had thought, only earlier that night, that he and Marik might have had anything in common.


	5. Damage Control

Three weeks into the future, Ishizu and Odion were searching through shops and bazaars, looking everywhere Marik could possibly have sold the Millennium Items, asking every shopkeeper they met if a young man with light hair and violet eyes had come by and sold some solid gold trinkets. Money wasn't much of an object, and keeping that powerful magic out of incompetent - or worse, wicked - hands was urgent. Knowing that they were already a few weeks behind was especially worrying.

A few people they talked to had seen and remembered Marik. He'd seemed agitated, they told the siblings, like he couldn't get rid of his priceless gold items fast enough. Most of them had taken one look and said they couldn't afford them, in response to which Marik had stormed off, a scarily angry look on his face. A couple of them had offered absurdly low prices for some of the smaller items, expecting to have to haggle, but Marik had accepted the pittance and handed them over eagerly, and they had had no reason to refuse. The Eye and the Necklace, specifically, had been pawned off in this manner, and had later been sold to customers at hundreds of times the prices Marik had taken for them.

"What was he thinking?" Ishizu wondered out loud as they walked through the crowded streets. "Pawning off the Millennium Items…you can't just throw such powerful magic into the world like that!"

Odion offered no answer, not that Ishizu had expected one.

At last, they got lucky. One particularly sleazy merchant had offered an insanely small amount of money for the Millennium Scale, and was now ironically selling it for three thousand times the price he'd paid Marik. He hadn't actually expected to be able to trick Marik out of such a valuable item, but the young man had seemed eager to be conned, and the merchant hadn't questioned it.

"I would've bought the others, too," the merchant told Ishizu, "but I didn't want to push my luck."

"I wish you had," Ishizu sighed. "I'll buy it. Full price."

As he handed the Scale over, the merchant gave Ishizu a thoughtful look. "You know, I'm not a fool, miss," he told her. "I know something's up with these trinkets you're looking for. Him too eager to sell 'em, you too eager to buy 'em…Who is he to you?"

"He was my brother," Ishizu answered, giving the Scale to Odion for safekeeping.

The merchant nodded. "Was, huh?" he grunted. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious, but I get the feeling I'm safer not knowing."

"You're right about that much," Ishizu told him, and she and Odion moved on.

"Why would Marik have been so eager to get rid of these?" Ishizu asked, this time addressing Odion directly. "It doesn't make any sense…He knows the kind of power the Millennium Items contain - why wouldn't he want to at least keep them?"

"Master Marik always tried to be efficient," Odion told his sister. "If he didn't need something - or someone - they were useless baggage to be disposed of." Ishizu suppressed a shiver at the thought of Marik treating a living person as 'useless baggage to be disposed of'. "He did not need these," Odion continued, "and each one he had with him increased the risk that one of us would catch him before he could leave."

"But why wouldn't he just leave them be?" Ishizu asked. "If he didn't want them, he didn't have to take them from their resting place at all. He could have just left them underground…"

"I said Master Marik was efficient, not wasteful," Odion said. "He makes use of what he has."

"But then-"

Odion took Ishizu's hand and stopped to look her in the eye. "We will never know for sure why Master Marik made the choices he did," he told her; "we can only do our best to clean up the mess he left behind."

Ishizu was silent for a minute, the corners of her eyes stinging. Then she gave in and nodded. "You're right," she agreed. "There's no sense wondering about it now."

~o~

They found the other two people who had bought Millennium Items from Marik around nightfall; both said they had already sold them to customers. The one who had bought the Puzzle, however, seemed uneasy, and Odion pushed him until he finally broke down and talked.

"I dropped it," he admitted. "I…I was so stupid…I was just carrying it behind the stall to find a place to pack it, and my foot hit a rock. I tried to catch it, but…it hit the ground and it…it shattered." He looked frantically between Ishizu and Odion. "I tried to put it back together!" he exclaimed, apparently worried that he had done something horrible that the Ishtar siblings would punish him for. "I really tried! I couldn't-"

Ishizu put up a hand to stop him. "It's okay," she told him soothingly. "There's nothing to worry about. It's supposed to do that. It's a…" She searched for words that wouldn't sound suspicious. "…a puzzle box of sorts - a very challenging one," she finished at last. She gave the rattled merchant a friendly smile. "You didn't break anything. Just tell us: Did you really sell it?"

"I…well…no," he admitted at last. "I just…I picked up the pieces and put them in a box. I couldn't sell it like that, you know?"

"Would you please sell it to us?" Ishizu asked gently.

The man looked at her for a long minute, still nervous. "Is it…is is special to you?" he asked suspiciously.

Ishizu nodded. "Very," she replied, "and we're more than happy to compensate for however much you gave our brother for it. We just want it back."

The man blanched. "Oh…it's a family thing?" he stammered. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"It's okay," Ishizu repeated patiently. "Please just give it to us."

"R-Right," he said, and he scrambled in back to his stores to find the box.

When he was out of earshot, the two siblings exchanged glances of relief. "At least we managed to retrieve the Millennium Puzzle," Odion said, echoing Ishizu's thoughts.

Ishizu nodded. "It's broken now…I wonder if that means it's going to choose someone else to wield it in the future," she mused.

"Here it is!" the unlucky merchant called, trotting back over to the counter as fast as he could and carrying a small crate. "It's all still here, every piece." He opened it to show them, as though afraid they wouldn't trust his word.

Ishizu looked closely. She had never actually seen the Millennium Puzzle in its disassembled state; she only knew that it was unsolvable by anyone who was unworthy to wield its power. She had enough experience with the Millennium Items in general, however, to recognize that this was indeed one of them.

She took the box, deeply relieved. "Thank you," she told the merchant. "How much did you give my brother?"

"Oh, y-you don't need to pay me back in full - since I broke it," the man stammered.

"I insist," Ishizu told him, again giving him a soothing smile.

He named the amount, and Ishizu gave him double. "Please, don't worry about all this," she told him. "My brother was the one who tried to get rid of this; you were only doing your job. It's fine."

"T-Thank you," the man stammered. "And I really am sorry about-"

"It's fine," Ishizu repeated, kindly but firmly.

It was late at night by then, and so the Ishtar siblings went home with only two of the five mystic Items safely in their care.

~o~

"What will we do about the other three?" Odion asked as they stored the two Items away safely.

"I don't know," Ishizu admitted. "We could go looking around and hope to find people holding them…Or I could make some sort of public announcement asking for them back…"

"How much attention do we want to draw to this?" Odion asked, voicing the questions that they had to consider before making a decision. "Would there be a risk in addressing the general public about them? And how much would it be safe to tell?"

"I'll sleep on it," Ishizu sighed tiredly. Then she blinked, remembering exactly what was going on. "Oh…" she breathed.

Odion looked at her wordlessly.

Ishizu bowed her head. "In all this trouble, I almost forgot about our brother…about mourning him…"

Odion's stony expression softened slightly, and he nodded, then bowed his head as well.

They stood in respectful silence, allowing themselves to fully grieve Marik's being lost to the darkness again. Ishizu allowed herself to weep, and even Odion shed a tear in sorrow. This wasn't just a repeat of the past, it was worse. This time, Marik hadn't even brought Odion with him, and he didn't even have a clear objective…

Last time, Ishizu had at least known what her brother was trying to do. She had known places she could search for him, and how she could draw him out so that she might confront him. Now he was simply gone, his existence completely obscured in the shadows. She would probably never see him again.

Last time, Odion had joined his younger brother in his dark quest, as a faithful servant. He had known how he needed to stay by Marik's side, lest the monster who had killed their father emerge again - and in order to do that, he had committed terrible acts. He had only wanted to protect his brother, as their mother had asked him to do with her dying breath, and everything else had been negligible in comparison. Now, that monster was gone, and Marik didn't need his older brother by his side to stay sane, but he had still chosen to live in the darkness anyway - this time, without Odion. He'd barely even said goodbye.

What would he do? Who would he trust, as he had once trusted his brother; Bakura? Or would he simply act alone? Was he in servitude to the evil spirit? Would he regret his decision? Or would he finally be…happy?

Such were the reflections of the two Ishtars, and each sent a silent prayer to the gods that, come what may, their younger brother might at least find peace.


	6. Relationships Mean Compromises

With no better ideas, Bakura decided to use Ryou's home for the night, though he and Marik agreed that they wouldn't be staying there. They discussed ideas for breaking the news to Yugi and his friends as cruelly as possible, when Bakura had the brilliant idea of checking Ryou's memories to see if there was anything useful. It was very fortunate that he did.

"Marik," he said, "Yugi and his friends aren't in school anymore. They graduated."

Marik gave his typical slowly-absorbing-what-was-just-said blink. "Oh," he said. "Erm…right. It _has_ been a few years, hasn't it…?"

"Indeed it has," Bakura said, and Marik couldn't tell how much sarcasm was in those words. "Which means we'll need a new plan."

"We had a plan?" Marik questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"We were _working_ on one, at least!" Bakura snapped - he might not be tired per se, but he was getting impatient. "But now we have to start over. And don't tell me: You need to sleep now, don't you?" He could see the obvious signs of fatigue dragging Marik down, making him even slower than he already was.

"I have jetlag," Marik grumbled defensively. "I went halfway around the world to get here after I dug the Millennium Items up, and I haven't slept since I left home."

"Fine," Bakura spat. "Use Ryou's bed, he won't be using it. In the meantime, I'll dig around in Ryou's mind and see if I can find something useful."

"Have fun with that," Marik said, and he left for Ryou's bedroom.

Bakura glared after him. Mortality was such a burden - one he was glad to be rid of. Still, he dared to hope that maybe jetlag was why Marik had seemed so dumb. Maybe he'd be able to think better after he got some sleep.

For now, Bakura dug around in Ryou's mind, as he'd said he would.

_Did it have to be _me_ again?_ the gentle boy asked him.

_Shut up,_ Bakura said, still digging.

_But…ow!_ Bakura's probing into Ryou's mind went deeper. _Be gentle!_

_What makes you think I care about your discomfort?_ Bakura sneered at the boy.

_You don't have to be so rough…_Ryou said timidly.

_I don't care,_ Bakura spat. _Just shut up. You should be bloody grateful I didn't just kick your soul into the Shadow Realm and become the sole inhabitant of this body. You'll get to live, every now and then…when I feel like letting you. And that's a lot more than I _have_ to give you, so just thank me for it._

_But why can't we work together, like Yugi did with his other self?_ Ryou asked.

_Because Atemu cared about the boy he had to share a body with,_ Bakura answered. _I don't care about you. You're a nuisance, and you should be grateful that I've chosen to put up with you._

_But why did it have to be _me_?_ Ryou asked again.

Bakura sighed and gave up on searching. _Because I'm comfortable in this body,_ he answered. _No other reason, really. I'm just used to this flesh. It suits me._

And with that, he shut the boy's consciousness out. He'd seen enough, and he didn't feel like arguing with the pitiful human anymore.

~o~

When Marik woke up late in the morning, it took him a minute to remember who he was. Every single thing around him was so completely and thoroughly _wrong_, he was left disoriented and confused. For a while, it felt like he was still dreaming.

But he wasn't dreaming. The room, the bed, the golden scepter in his hands - it was impossible, but real. Words and names came back to him at random, one by one: _Rod. Zorc. Ring. Chosen. Domino. Darkness. Evil. Pain. Ryou. Atemu. Knives. Bakura._

_…Bakura._

"Bakura," he groaned aloud, the name acting as a touchstone to drag him out of his confusion into the reality of the present.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position. He hadn't undressed the previous night, just collapsed right on Ryou's bed and fallen asleep almost instantly. He really had been pushing himself a lot lately…He glanced distastefully at his oversized muscles. Hopefully, they would start to shrink back down to their proper size now.

_Now_…What _was_ now? As he swung his legs over the side of the mattress, Marik finally took the time to think through the decisions he'd made over the course of the past two days with a clear head. Had he made his choice too hastily? Was this really the life he wanted - worth turning his back on his family and everything he'd ever had?

He looked down at the Millennium Rod he held, took it in both hands, and gently opened it, revealing the hidden spike with which he'd killed his father. Odd that this Item, of the seven, could actually be used as a physical weapon…But the Millennium Puzzle - it could tear apart the fabric of reality? What other secrets did the Millennium Items hold that he hadn't known about when he'd pawned them off?

For that matter, the rest of Bakura's story…If he had known, growing up, exactly what his family had been entrusted with, would he have felt so abused? Would his soul have split? Would this golden stake have tasted his father's blood?…What was important was that he _hadn't_ known, just been told that he should feel honored to have his back carved up with a hot knife when he was only a child for no reason - but even as that thought crossed his mind, he wondered if his father had actually known himself.

Marik sheathed the weapon, set the Millennium Rod aside, and put his face in his hands. Everything had happened so fast…He'd known, the previous day, when he took Bakura's hand, that he was signing on to a lifetime of evil permanently - if he tried to back out now, the ancient spirit would almost certainly kill him in cold blood. But the alternative? He remembered how casually Bakura had spoke of cutting people's throats for fun and shivered. The dark wraith had talked about it the same way one might talk about having had pizza for lunch - as though it was normal, insignificant, not even worth thinking about. Was that what Marik would have to become? If so, this was completely different from what he'd done before. Sure, he'd done horrible things, but he'd been pursuing a few trading cards that had happened to have ancient magic sealed inside them with the intention of unlocking the power of the Tablet of Memories for himself - not necessarily a bloody task. Killing people for the fun of it? That was a completely different game…a game he now found himself trapped in.

His shoulders slumped, his face still buried in his hands, and he moaned aloud the cliché question that was the only thing that adequately described how he felt just then:

"What have I done?"

Searching for something he could figure out, he considered the question literally, and realized that in fact, so far, he'd only resurrected the malevolent spirit that lived in the Millennium Ring, nothing else. He hadn't really started getting his hands dirty, hadn't performed any evildoings just yet. His siblings would want him to back out now - he knew they would choose death over a life of darkness without a second thought, and would expect the same of him. What was more, if he managed to escape Bakura's wrath, if he could make it back to his family, they would protect him, he knew they would - they would forgive him for what he'd done without question, just as they had before.

They had always forgiven him.

And that led Marik's thoughts to the life he'd had after banishing his evil counterpart to the Shadow Realm. A quiet life, a peaceful life, living with his brother and sister, protecting the secrets of ancient Egypt. They had been so good to him - Ishizu, especially, had seemed overjoyed at having her younger brother back with her. His siblings' smiles, their forgiveness and acceptance, how they'd gone so far out of their way to re-integrate him into a normal life…oh, how painful it had all been. Everything they did to show him they loved him had made Marik feel horrible. He'd wished they would at least judge him a _little_ for his choices - instead, he'd only had his own guilt for company, forever marking him as not truly belonging in the life he lived. And he _hadn't_ belonged, no matter how much his brother and sister had tried to make him feel like he did. Going to the old site every day to dig up the Millennium Items had been as much about escaping his family as it had been about seeking a purpose in life.

He remembered the satisfaction he'd felt, only just the previous day, as he'd taken Bakura's hand, pledging himself to the Darkness - a sense that he'd finally found the place in the world where he _belonged_. He remembered how much he'd relished the idea of telling Yugi and his friends that everything they had worked for had been for nothing, of rubbing Bakura and the Millennium Items in their faces and them being powerless to even object. Yugi and his friends thought they were _his_ friends now, and the thought of proving them wrong made Marik smile.

And at last, Marik lifted his head and lowered his arms, his hands clenching into fists. No, he wouldn't back out. His heart was dark and wicked. He wanted to bring pain and misery and chaos into the world, to stand by Bakura's side and champion the force of Darkness for as long as he lived. It would be different this time from before, but he would get used to the new things - he already had a weapon meant to spill blood that was his and his alone.

He picked up the Rod and finally stood, determined…and nearly fell over when a voice broke the silence.

"Feeling better?"

Marik yelped in surprise, finally seeing the pale figure standing in the corner of the room that he hadn't noticed, those cold brown eyes piercing him. Bakura remained impassive as Marik gasped for breath, trying to get his heart rate back under control.

"How long have you been standing there?" Marik demanded when he could breathe normally.

Bakura shrugged. "An hour or two," he replied. "It was rather boring, but I figured that it would be best to let you sleep." He gave a slight shake of his head in disgust. "Weak little mortal."

Marik scowled. "Alright, let's get something straight here," he said sternly, taking a step closer to Bakura: "You might be an ancient spirit living in a magical 3000-year-old Egyptian pendant, and you might be partly Darkness incarnate itself, but the fact that I'm still a living human being is not my fault - and for that matter, you being what you are isn't your fault, either. There's no need to be so smug about not needing things like sleep when it's not like you even chose this existence yourself in the first place."

Bakura blinked, a bit surprised at Marik's sudden assertiveness - and even more surprised at the fact that he couldn't think of a good argument against Marik's points. He fumbled for a few moments - something he wasn't used to doing - then decided to just ignore the comment and take a jab at Marik in return. "Have you reconsidered your choice to join me?" he challenged.

Marik smirked. "I thought about it."

"And?"

The smirk split into a grin. "Do you have a plan for upsetting Yugi and his friends?"

In return, Bakura's smile dropped. "No," he grumbled. "I've seen enough of Ryou's memories to know that it won't be easy…some of them don't even live in this city anymore."

"Has it really been that long?" Marik asked, surprised.

"College, Marik," Bakura growled.

Much to Bakura's dismay, Marik blinked. "College?" he repeated stupidly.

And that exhausted the last of Bakura's patience. "Yes, college!" he snapped. "Some of Yugi's bloody friends have gone away to go to bloody college! It's not that bloody difficult to understand!"

"Hey, _I_ never went to college," Marik said, crossing his arms defensively. "In fact, I never went to school at all. Don't expect me to know how these things work."

Bakura took a breath, trying to calm down. "Just tell me: Have you reconsidered your choice to join me in the darkness?" he asked. Part of him hoped Marik would say yes.

But Marik shook his head. "I told you already: I stand with the darkness," he stated. "Some of this new freelance stuff will take some getting used to, but I will. Now," he said abruptly, leaving the room, "time to shop for a motorcycle."

Marik was very, _very_ lucky that Bakura had left his new knife in another room.

~o~

Motorcycles were a much easier thing to find being sold than knives, so at least they didn't have to hunt around the city as they had the previous day. That didn't stop Marik from taking ages looking at them all.

"Marik, stop looking around and just bloody pick one," Bakura grumbled when three hours had passed and they were still halfway through the lot.

Marik stood up from where he'd been looking at one motorcycle's wheels and glared at his new partner. "I didn't rush _you_ when you were shopping for a knife," he pointed out. "I have just as much right to take my time as you did."

"Why do you even love these bloody things so much, anyway?" Bakura demanded.

He fully expected a stupid response; but instead, to his surprise, Marik's expression grew pensive, and actually took a minute before answering. When he did answer, it was a lot more than what Bakura had even wanted…and a lot more reasonable.

"After my initiation, I felt so alone…I had to beg and badger my sister for a chance to go outside just once," Marik told Bakura at last, his voice soft, his purple eyes staring at something long since gone. "If I was going to spend my life underground with my back covered in burns, I wanted to at least have one opportunity to feel the sun, to see the people, to know - even for a moment - what it felt like to actually have a life of my own. When at last I convinced her to take me into the nearby village…I knew happiness for the first time in my life, even if it was marred by her trying to restrain me so I wouldn't be spoiled for my duty as tombkeeper.

"Everything was new to me - the sights, the sounds, the smells. I didn't know the names of half the things I saw. One of the things I managed to get a glimpse of was a TV; on it, a man got on a motorcycle and drove off into the distance. I envied that man so much…to be free to just ride, to go far away, as far as he pleased - it was what I wanted more than anything. When my sister finally dragged me back home, before I left the open world, I took a moment to sit on a rock and pretend I was riding a motorcycle of my own…and I swore, then and there, that someday I would have one, and I would ride it far away, as far away from my miserable life as the machine could take me." Marik blinked a few times, returning to the present, and focused his eyes on Bakura. His lips quirked into a little smile that didn't meet his eyes. "When I broke free, I got my wish," he told the ancient spirit. "It will always be my wish. Still is." He gestured around vaguely at the field of motorcycles for sale. "That's why I need one. It means being free."

Bakura sighed but said nothing else in protest, which was the only way he could say that he wouldn't continue to pester the young Egyptian, and Marik went back to shopping around the lot.

He really didn't want to care about Marik's childhood dreams, but something about his story spoke to Bakura, as it had the previous day. It was more of the same, really - misery, forced on him in his youth by people who claimed to be doing the 'good' thing. And loathe as he was to admit it to himself, he could actually see the appeal of picking a random direction and flying off into the distance, leaving everything that reminded him of his misery behind. He hadn't been able to do such a thing three thousand years ago, when his village had been destroyed and its people massacred - such things hadn't even existed at the time…but if they had, would he have had the same wish?

As he watched Marik continue to admire the gleaming machines, Bakura had to admit that maybe, just maybe, he might have.

It was an odd thing to think.

~o~

It was late afternoon, almost evening, by the time Marik finally made a purchase - a day completely wasted, in Bakura's opinion. Marik couldn't have disagreed more, though, if the way his violet eyes shone as he started up the noisy machine was any indication. That was another thing Bakura disliked about some of the things mankind had invented over the millennia: The noise. That deafening, thought-jamming _noise_. He was a silent person - one who lurked in the shadows, unseen and unheard. He'd even spent decades training himself to make as little noise as possible, as a thief needed to do.

Marik, on the other hand, apparently loved loud noises. He adjusted some levers on the handlebars of his motorcycle for no reason Bakura could discern except to momentarily triple the noise the damn thing was making. Bakura cringed with each rev; at the same time, Marik's face lit up with complete joy…and once again, Bakura found himself wondering how he could possibly have thought, only just a short while ago, that he and Marik might have anything at all in common with each other.

And then Marik called over the deafening roar of the engine, "Climb on, Bakura!"

"What?!" Bakura exclaimed, hoping he had misheard through the racket.

"Climb! On!" Marik shouted emphatically.

_No_. No, no, no, no, no. Bakura could barely stand the sight of that monstrosity, never mind the sound. To ride it? Touch it? Even come an inch closer to it? No. Absolutely bloody not. There was no way he was going to shred his eardrums and throw away every ounce of his self-respect like that.

He opened his mouth to very adamantly refuse…when, completely against his will, a memory from the previous day sprung to the forefront of his mind: Marik's extreme distaste at the thought of actually murdering people. The way he had balked, almost exactly as Bakura was balking at the thought of riding a motorcycle now. And hadn't Marik said, just that morning, that he would try to get used to the 'new freelance stuff' being evil would entail - in essence, that he was willing to compromise on something he very much didn't like the idea of?

_It's not the bloody same,_ Bakura told himself. _Evil means hurting people; you can't choose a life dedicated to hurting people and not kill anyone. It's something he _has_ to do, just to be who he says he's committed to being! Being evil does _not_, however, mandate riding a bloody noisy monstrosity._

And yet…

His train of thought was shattered as Marik revved the engine again, still for no apparent reason.

"Come on!" Marik called, grinning like a child with a new toy - which, really, was exactly what he was. "What are you waiting for?"

_I'm waiting for you to grow up,_ Bakura thought but didn't say as, glowering, he forced himself to approach the noisy vehicle. _But I suppose we don't really have that kind of time._

_I could take over, if you're scared,_ came Ryou's voice suddenly.

Bakura gritted his teeth. _I'm not _scared_,_ he spat at his host; _I just find these bloody things _annoying_._

He climbed on the motorcycle behind Marik, straddling the machine the way he knew he was supposed to. It was so loud…how could anyone bear such noise?!

Marik revved the engine again, and Bakura cringed, wishing he could sew his ears shut. Right before Marik took off, the fact that they were about to go very fast managed to worm its way into Bakura's mind, and he wrapped his arms around Marik and grabbed hold just in time.

And then they were flying, invisible fingers tearing at their clothes and hair, the roar of the wind almost drowning out the engine. Bakura had to admit to himself that he might actually find this experience enjoyable, if only it wasn't so bloody _loud_…

_Can I _please_ take over?_ Ryou piped up again. _It's quieter in here, and I'll let you look through my mind while we ride - I won't say another word while you look, I promise._

_You think I believe I can trust you to not try to make Marik crash and kill us?_ Bakura spat.

_Why would I do that?!_ Ryou exclaimed. _That would kill me too!_

_Well, considering the fact that your ability to live is going to be extremely limited from now until this body wears out, killing us would both save a lot of people and set you free,_ Bakura pointed out. _And don't pretend you aren't smart enough to realize that on your own, I've spent a lot of time in here._

_I won't do anything, I promise,_ the gentle young man assured him earnestly. _Please? I've never ridden a motorcycle._

_Oh, so it's a bucket list thing, is it?_ Bakura sneered. Still, he had to consider the human's offer. After a minute, he asked, _Will you let me know if I'm hurting you while I dig through your mind?_

_Um…would you like me to?_ Ryou asked.

_Yes I would,_ Bakura said malevolently.

_Well then, yes, I will,_ Ryou said. _Just please let me have this? Please?_

Bakura let out a sigh that was quickly torn away by the wind, then closed his eyes and focused on the golden ornament that his soul had been sealed within for so long. He wasn't sealed anymore, but he was still bound to it - it knew his soul, and his soul knew it. His consciousness retreated, and the gentle human whose body he'd been using slipped out of the gold and back into his own flesh.

It _was_ quieter in the Millennium Ring, blissfully so - without ears, Bakura could actually have complete and total silence. He had to let in a little bit of the racket outside in order to look through Ryou's mind, but it was still almost like being in a vacuum compared to what he'd been dealing with before.

What was more, as promised, Ryou put up no resistance to Bakura's probing. Bakura got a slight impression of his host focusing on the wondrous feeling of flying, of all the sensations of being alive. It was the first time he'd let Ryou out since he'd returned, and the timid mortal was taking full advantage of it. He was even able to ignore the fact that his body hadn't had food, water, or sleep in a long time.

But none of that was Bakura's problem. He started sifting through thoughts and memories, getting fully caught up on the five and a half years he'd been away. Despite having gone their separate ways, it seemed Yugi and his friends still stayed in touch with each other, and even with Ryou, which was convenient…

And then Bakura happened upon something that was _very_ convenient indeed.

~o~

Marik rode, in complete bliss. There was nothing in the world like riding on a motorcycle - the sense of sheer freedom, so great that he was even able to forget the torment of his childhood. It was the closest thing to Heaven that Marik figured he would ever experience, considering his choices in life.

He drove straight, no particular goal in mind, eventually coming out of Domino City and onto a highway, and then opened throttle. Such freedom…it was like flying, only better. Nothing could catch him, nothing could stop him, nothing could trouble him. The whole world fell away, all his worries and burdens cast to the wind roaring in his ears.

Eventually, the urban setting faded away, and he was truly in the open world. He stayed on the road for a while, then spontaneously decided to leave civilization behind entirely. Without any sort of warning, he took a sharp 90-degree turn onto a green field - and earned a yelp from his passenger, who suddenly squeezed him from behind as he was nearly thrown off.

"Oops," Marik laughed. "Sorry." He'd forgotten that someone was riding with him.

"I'm okay," Bakura said, though his voice seemed to have jumped a couple of octaves.

Marik laughed again, reveling in the flight, now without the smoothness of the road - the feeling of being far away from anything and everything that he so relished. He could spend the rest of eternity just like this, carefree and content.

The sun finished setting as Marik simply rode into the nothingness. When at last the moon was the only source of light, he allowed himself to slow down, eventually coming to a stop in a very hilly area, far away from any sort of barrier or restraint.

"Woo," he breathed, setting the kickstand and dismounting. "Oh, I needed that."

There was an oddly long pause before Bakura replied, "Well, I'm glad you got it out of your system. Now where are we?"

Marik looked at Bakura and grinned. "I have absolutely no idea," he said; "that's the point! We could probably set up a base here if we wanted to."

Bakura looked around at the hills and the grass, the few trees and shrubs here and there. A different sort of wasteland from the one he'd grown up in, but just as empty. "We could," he agreed. Then he smirked and added, "And while we're at it, we can get ready to ruin Yugi's life."

Marik blinked. "I thought we weren't going to be able to do that."

Bakura gave a nasty chuckle. "Yes, well…while _you_ were having fun with your little toy, _I_ actually bothered to do something productive," he told his painfully slow partner. "Ryou finally gave up an answer. We can still carry through with our idea."

"How?" Marik asked.

In the moonlight, Bakura's pale skin and white hair gave him the appearance of the ghost he was, and his wicked smile, half-hidden in the shadows of the night, was chilling. "I'm glad you asked."


	7. Shattered

Ishizu couldn't rest.

She'd spent a week trying to hunt down the other three Millennium Items. She'd gone back to the people who had sold them and asked for names, descriptions, anything she could use to hunt them down. She'd even taken the risk of making an announcement on a local news station, asking for the return of the items and promising full reimbursement plus interest for the money they'd cost. Miraculously, she actually managed to track down and retrieve the Millennium Eye, and the Millennium Key was returned to her a couple of days after that. There was no sign of the Necklace anywhere, though - probably because it worked as a normal piece of jewelry, so even if its new owner saw the announcement, they wouldn't feel like giving it up.

But it wasn't just the Millennium Items that kept Ishizu awake in the night. It was Marik. She was worried about her younger brother - she couldn't help it. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he okay? Had he hurt anyone? She wasn't sure which possibility scared her more - that something might have happened to Marik, or that he might have done something to someone else. Both were enough to make her feel sick with fear.

She wished she could use the Millennium Items to find him, but they hadn't responded to her commands. The magic was still in them, that was obvious, but they simply no longer recognized her as worthy of wielding their power. Of course, the Necklace had been the only one of the Items to ever obey her every command, but she had a feeling that she would have just as much success with it as she was having with the others if given the opportunity.

Tired, anxious, and helpless, Ishizu found herself tinkering with the Millennium Puzzle, day and night. Only one worthy of wielding its power would be able to assemble it, and she knew that there was no chance she would be found worthy herself, but trying to put it together allowed her to feel like she was doing something.

Odion was a pillar of strength, taking care of her as she had taken care of Marik only a few weeks before. That was what family did, after all - took care of each other. But that was exactly the problem: Ishizu felt that she had failed Marik. Had she done something to push him away, make him want a life in the darkness? Was there anything she could have said, anything she could have done, to save him? Odion counseled her repeatedly to not dwell on such things, but she just couldn't help it. She couldn't shake the fear that this whole situation was her fault.

As the days passed, even as the Eye and Key were returned, Ishizu found herself with the Millennium Puzzle more and more, becoming obsessed with it as Marik had become obsessed with digging the Items up. It almost felt like, if she could only solve it, she could fix everything, bring her brother home. Maybe the Puzzle did have that kind of power, but whether it did or not, it refused her. No two pieces came together correctly in her hands. It wasn't a matter of spatial skill or even random chance, of course - no matter how many different things she tried, if the Puzzle didn't want to be solved, it wouldn't be. Only those truly worthy of its power could put it together.

And Ishizu was not.

It had been a month since Marik had left for Domino City when the phone rang late one night in the Ishtar household. Odion was asleep, but Ishizu was still up, tinkering with the golden fragments of the Millennium Puzzle. She immediately dropped the two pieces in her hands and sprang to her feet, not knowing what she was hoping for but desperate for something to change.

She picked up the phone; it was a collect call…from Domino City. She accepted at once, and the call went through.

"Hello?" she asked, trying to sound calm, though she was anything but.

"Um, hi, Ishizu?" came a familiar voice.

Ishizu nearly dropped the phone. "Yugi?"

"Yeah, hi," Yugi said. He had grown over the years since his final duel with Atemu, and his voice was now almost indistinguishable from that of the ancient Pharaoh; his manner, however, was still that of the shy boy he'd always been. "I'm sorry if I woke you…I'm not sure what time it is over there…"

"No, you didn't wake me," Ishizu said quickly. She searched for words that would be least likely to lead to something bad. "How are you? It's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has," Yugi said, and there was definitely an uncomfortable note to his voice. "Listen, Ishizu…I, uh…I saw Marik today."

Ishizu gasped, desperately trying to maintain her grip - both on the phone, and on her emotions. "O-Oh?" she stammered.

"Yeah…"

Ishizu waited nervously for a moment, but it seemed Yugi wasn't exactly eager to tell her whatever he had to say. She took a deep breath, and then forced herself to ask: "How is he?"

"Ishizu, he's…he's using the Millennium Rod." The words started to tumble out of Yugi's mouth. "And he's with Bakura - Bakura has the Millennium Ring! And the evil spirit of the Ring is back inside it - he's taken over Bakura's body again! And he and Marik, they're…they're…It's like before, but they aren't playing Duel Monsters to settle anything, they're just…" His voice cut off, like a twig being twisted and snapping.

A tear slid down Ishizu's cheek - she had known, of course, but hearing someone else tell her was still a knife in her heart. "I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry…I know."


	8. Bloodlust

Marik and Bakura spent a few weeks preparing. They _had_ to spend a few weeks, because their window of opportunity was very specific.

Yugi and his three closest friends had all gone their separate ways, it was true, but they still considered Domino City to be their home; so, of course, they all returned to the city during holidays. It just so happened that there was a holiday just a little less than a month away - the timing couldn't have been more perfect. Marik and Bakura intended to celebrate with them, in their own special way.

The biggest wild card in their plan that they could see was Ryou. There was a lot more depending on him than Bakura would have liked, and he wasn't sure he could force the boy to do as he pleased. Marik, however, repeatedly reassured Bakura that if push came to shove, he could use his Millennium Rod to force Ryou to do what he was told. Ryou himself, of course, had no say in the proceedings - most of the time, Bakura tried to shut him away in the Millennium Ring.

In the meantime, when not plotting, the two villains tried to figure out where they would be living - if not for the rest of their lives, then at least for the next few weeks. The field Marik had stopped in wasn't an unpleasant place to camp, but it was very inconveniently far away from anything a person (like Marik) needed to stay alive - and while such things weren't as much of a problem for Bakura, he couldn't leave Ryou's body in stasis for too long without the organs and muscles atrophying, either. Marik was always more than happy to ride his motorcycle into town for supplies - a bit _too_ happy, really, as Bakura sometimes got the feeling that Marik retrieved as little as possible at a time just so he could ride his motorcycle more. It wasn't a very comfortable situation in the long term.

Ironically, money was the least of their problems. Though Marik's supply from selling the Millennium Items was far from infinite - in fact, nearly all of it had been spent on the motorcycle - Bakura was still the king of thieves, and no less happy to use his skills now than he had been three thousand years ago. Mankind had made a lot of developments over the millennia in the interest of protecting their valuables, but Bakura had watched all of them as they'd come to be, and none of them provided him with even a challenge. In fact, it was very rare for his victims to even realize they'd ever been robbed. The downside, of course, was having to ride into town on Marik's motorcycle; he let Marik drive, and gave Ryou some time out of the Ring during the rides. Ryou made sure to express gratitude every time this happened, though if he hoped this would lead Bakura to let him out more often, it was in vain.

Marik was really quite happy and content, all things considered - he wouldn't have changed anything, except perhaps having easier access to a bathroom (just keeping himself clean and presentable using only means available to the public was a _huge_ chore), but since it gave him one more reason to ride his motorcycle, he tried to focus on that positive and not complain. Bakura, on the other hand, got restless _very_ quickly. Many a night, he would sit in the grass, Marik asleep nearby, gazing at the way the moonlight reflected off the blade of his new knife…his new, _unbloodied_ knife. He hadn't hurt anyone since returning to the world, and he craved blood. He counted the days, watching the moon wane as the month passed…sometimes he would wish he could sleep through the night to make it pass more quickly, but while grass was a more comfortable bed than the sand he was used to, resting was difficult. Even when Ryou's body absolutely needed to sleep or it would die, allowing it to do so wasn't easy - most of the time, Bakura ended up just letting Ryou deal with it, which didn't help him any since it left him still-conscious inside the Millennium Ring.

But at last, the day came when he and Marik were going to put their plan into motion. Bakura had to force himself to sit still through that final night, and the very moment the sun broke over the horizon, he was shaking Marik awake, the unfamiliar sensation of his heart pounding in his chest all but choking him, his face, normally pale as a corpse, flushed with excitement.

"Wake up!" he shouted, shaking Marik as roughly as he could. "Wake up, you idiot! It's time!"

"Hnnng," Marik groaned, trying to roll out of Bakura's reach.

Bakura didn't let him, shaking him almost hard enough to dislocate a shoulder. "_Wake up_!" he roared.

"Alright, alright," Marik grumbled, slowly dragging himself out of whatever dream he'd been having, reaching to rub the sleep from his eyes.

It was difficult for Bakura to not stab Marik to speed things up - only the fact that he was saving his virgin blade for what remained of his enemies stopped him. He forced himself to back off as Marik sat up and blearily opened his violet eyes. Marik blinked a couple of times, then finally focused his gaze on Bakura.

"What's the big deal?" he groaned.

"It's today!" Bakura exclaimed, more joyful than he'd been in a _very_ long time. "They're here! It's time!"

Marik gave his typical couple of blinks as he slowly absorbed Bakura's words. Then, finally, _finally_, his eyes lit up as he registered what day it was.

Bakura grinned and stood up. "Let's go!" he all but sang.

Marik smiled back and stood up as well, then looked at the sky and frowned. "Bakura, it's barely sunrise," he pointed out. "We won't be able to start anything for another couple of hours."

But Bakura waved this aside. "More time to set up," he said. "Come on, start up your bloody monstrosity already and let's get to Ryou's place!"

This was the first time Bakura had referred to Marik's motorcycle as a "monstrosity" out loud, and Marik took a few moments to consider whether or not he wanted to ask about it. All this earned him was an impatient glare, and he decided not to comment and get his motorcycle.

Bakura looked down at the Millennium Ring. "You know what to do," he said softly, and he gave control over to Ryou.

The cold brown eyes blinked and transformed into warm, gentle orbs. The wild hair calmed, the cruel mouth softened. Ryou hadn't been able to live - except from when Bakura needed to sleep or ride on Marik's motorcycle - in a month, and he hesitated for a moment before looking down at himself with a somewhat puzzled expression, as if only half-certain how to move his muscles.

Marik came over and peered at the young man curiously. He'd never actually talked to Ryou himself, apart from the day he'd brought Bakura back, though Bakura had told him the boy was unnaturally gentle and timid - the opposite of Marik's partner, really.

"Hello?" he asked.

Ryou looked up and blanched slightly at the intensity of Marik's probing gaze. "Um…hello," he said, his voice so soft and gentle that it reminded Marik of a cloud drifting across the sky. He'd forgotten just how frail the boy seemed, in every way.

"Are you going to behave?" Marik asked.

"Oh, yes!" Ryou said quickly, seeming strangely frightened. "Yes, I-I'll do what I'm supposed to. Just…just as long as you…"

Marik gave the boy what was _probably_ intended to be a comforting smile. "Don't worry, we won't hurt you," he reassured Ryou. "We need you."

Ryou nodded nervously. Marik wasn't used to seeing such fear and submission in a person, especially not on the same physical body that Bakura used; it was weirdly off-putting. Marik's whatever-sort-of-smile dropped, replaced by a concerned frown. "Are you sure you can do this?" he asked the youth.

Ryou nodded, nervous but not uncertain.

"Alright then." Marik started up his motorcycle, the roar of the engine filling him with a thrill that never got old. He got on, then gestured to Ryou with his head. "Climb aboard."

Ryou obliged, and they were tearing across the green once more, as they actually had many times, unbeknownst to Marik. Now that he was aware of the difference in his passenger, though, Marik actually wasn't as comfortable completely opening throttle on the vehicle. Something about the timid young man just demanded more gentle treatment, even from someone who was committed to hurting people as his purpose in life - as though hurting him would simply be _too_ easy. It only cost them a few minutes - Marik wasn't going to go _that_ slowly - but the ride was kind of uncomfortable. Ironic, really, that Marik was more comfortable in the company of an ancient evil spirit than he was with a gentle fellow human being that was more or less his age.

They reached Ryou's home, and Marik found a place to store his motorcycle that was relatively hidden as Ryou waited at his door nervously. Ryou really didn't want to do this - especially considering the extent of this plan - but he feared his captors more than anything. He had no doubt that his malevolent counterpart could find ways to hurt and torture him that wouldn't impede the spirit's ability to do as it pleased.

Marik returned, the Millennium Rod clasped menacingly in one hand. Ryou quickly went inside, and Marik followed him without a word, the silent threat of the ancient magical tool heavy between them.

~o~

Marik insisted on using Ryou's bathroom to clean up before anything else - they had plenty of time, thanks to Bakura's impatience, and a real, private bathroom was a nice change from what he'd had to use during the past month. Ryou promised not to do anything in the meantime, and held to his word. Then, finally, they got to work.

It was strange, how persuasive a person as passive as Ryou could be. Perhaps it was just that he seemed so innocent that no one would suspect him of malicious intent. He called up his friends - who were all in town - one at a time, asking them to meet him in a certain spot that Marik and Bakura had picked out. The two villains hadn't specified what he was supposed to say to his friends to convince them to agree to the strange request, only that he was to "tell them whatever he needed to to get them to come". Marik watched him attentively, making sure the boy didn't say or do anything that would give them away, and one by one, the four friends agreed to walk into the trap.

"Well done," Marik said when the last call was finished. "That was easier than I thought it would be."

Ryou looked at the floor uncomfortably, guilty for what he'd done, and said nothing.

Something prompted Marik to give the boy a pat on the shoulder that might have been comforting had it come from a less wicked person. As it was, the gesture was unexpected enough to startle Ryou out of his shame. He looked up at Marik with sad, brown eyes, remindful of a puppy.

Marik gave him a wicked smile, though he tried to tone it down a bit. "Now for the fun part," he said.

~o~

If any of Yugi's circle of four friends thought meeting up with a close friendly acquaintance of theirs in a back alley far away from any public place was strange, none of them gave any indication. They had only just gotten back to the city, and as a result, their first meet-up in a while was here. Their reunion was joyful, and soon they were talking and laughing without a care in the world, as though they'd never been apart. Such good friends…

The spectacle made Bakura feel sick.

But he waited, holding Ryou back in the shadows until the perfect moment. He wanted the children to get comfortable before he tore them apart - it would be so much more satisfying that way.

_Wait,_ he told Ryou. _Wait…_

Joey and Tristan started roughhousing, and the laughter doubled. Such wondrous joy among those who thrived in the Light, their hearts open to the world and everyone in it…everything Bakura, as a champion of Darkness, despised. At last, he couldn't take any more.

_Now!_ he told his host.

Ryou swallowed uncomfortably, then approached the four friends, his demeanor unusually awkward even for him.

"Um…hey guys," he said nervously.

Yugi and his friends turned, giving Bakura his first good look at them. Joey, Tristan, and Tea didn't look too different from how he remembered, just a bit older…but Yugi, it seemed, had finally gone through puberty, and had grown significantly - now, save for the lack of the intimidating degree of pride, he was indistinguishable from the ever-so-wonderful Pharaoh Atemu, his counterpart.

The sight kicked Bakura's bloodlust into high gear. It wouldn't be exactly the same, no, but it would be _so_ deliciously close…

"Hey, Bakura!" Tea said, greeting the white-haired boy with a smile. "How are you?"

Ryou started to sweat. "I…um…"

Had Bakura been corporal at that moment, he would have rolled his eyes.

"You said there was something you wanted to talk to us about," Yugi said, his voice having matured with his body to likewise match his ancient self - though he still acted like the innocent boy he had been before, which marred things a bit. "What's up?"

Ryou looked at each of the four friends, meeting their eyes one at a time, trying to telegraph his remorse to them; Bakura could feel the blood burning in the pale cheeks as he got ready to take over.

"I'm sorry," Ryou whispered to them, one tear managing to leak out of his eye before he lost everything. "I'm so sorry…"

And with that, Bakura ripped him away and took over, revealing the Millennium Ring, which he'd had cloaked by dark magic. The glow of the ancient artifact accentuated his change, as he smiled and pulled out his new knife, thirsty for blood.

"Guess who?" he taunted nastily.

"Wh-?"

"You-"

"But-"

"You can't be!"

The four children were eager to shout denial at what was in front of them, as humans were so wont to do. Bakura savored the moment, the shock on their faces that gave way to terror as they realized what they were seeing, and that it was very real.

There was only one direction they could go apart from the way Bakura had come, and they turned instinctively to run - only for Marik to reveal himself to be standing in their way, brandishing the Millennium Rod.

"Marik?!" Yugi gasped. "What are you doing here?"

Marik gave the boy a wicked smile of his own. "Hello, Yugi," he said. "Long time, no see. How has life been without your ancient Egyptian friend to guide you?" He gestured at Bakura. "Mine has been quite a delight since I brought him back. Too bad you can't revive yours."

"Marik, what are you doing?" Tea exclaimed, echoing Yugi.

"What I was born to do," Marik answered. "I tried being good." He snickered. "It wasn't for me. This is much more fun."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Bakura taunted from behind them, splitting the friends' attention. "We have our magic, but you don't have yours - and we have weapons, too. You're at our mercy." He raised his knife. "Will you beg us to spare you? There isn't much else you can do."

Yugi reached instinctively for the Millennium Puzzle, which wasn't there. Marik gave another chuckle and took out the deadly stake sheathed within the Millennium Rod, holding it as one would a wooden stake intended to be driven through a vampire's heart.

Yugi, Joey, Tristan, and Tea instinctively moved themselves away from Marik and Bakura until they stood back-to-back, as though prepared to defend themselves - which Bakura considered to be an amusing possibility. All four of them looked around for some option, some escape, but there was none - Bakura had made sure of that. Still, Yugi gritted his teeth, drawing on the courage he'd learned from Atemu.

"Leave my friends alone," he commanded his foes with all the strength he could muster.

Bakura chuckled wickedly. "So brave," he taunted. "Just like your old self, back in his time. You know, he had the same look on his face when he made his last stand, sacrificing himself to seal us away because he was too weak to win…"

"Atemu wasn't weak, and neither am I!" Yugi snarled, making Bakura chuckle a bit more. "You want to duel? You're on!"

Bakura's brown eyes met Marik's violent ones, the same thought sparking across the gap between them. They took a moment to acknowledge each other, and then both burst into near-hysterical laughter, their voices bouncing around and mixing with each other in the enclosed alleyway, until it sounded like a chorus of the damned as they broke out of Hell.

"A…A duel?" Bakura finally managed to choke through his mirth. "A card game? You think we're here to play a bloody children's _card_ _game_?!" He barely managed to get the words out before the very sound of them sent him into double the hysterics he'd already been in.

Marik, likewise, laughed even harder - harder than he'd laughed…possibly ever in his life. He had to struggle to force his eyes to stay open, even if slitted, so he could watch as Bakura's meaning sank in and the former heroes realized exactly what kind of danger they were facing. Not a modernized version of ancient battles between monsters under human command. Not a children's card game made more serious by the threat of a trip to the Shadow Realm. No…this time, Marik and Bakura were going to spill blood, with old-fashioned weapons and violence. Watching their terror morph into complete horror was a priceless spectacle that Marik knew he would cherish for the rest of his life.

If he'd had any lingering doubts, they were gone now: He was evil.

And oh, did it feel _good_.

Then, the children started begging. Not for mercy, but for something much more amusing.

"Hey, Bakura! _Good_ Bakura! I know you're in there!" Tristan shouted at Bakura. "Wake up, man! Don't let this guy control you!"

"Marik, you don't wanna do this," Joey said to Marik. "Think about what you're doing here!"

"Oh, I've thought about it a lot," Marik assured the fool. "I've fantasized about this for weeks. And I can assure you, I _do_ want to do this, more than you could possibly imagine."

He took a step closer, still brandishing the unsheathed spike of the Millennium Rod. Bakura mirrored his movement, stepping closer to the four unlucky innocents, the fingers grasping his knife tingling in expectation of being bathed in blood. The two closed in, slowly, deliberately, savoring the terror and helplessness the retired champions of Light felt now. They had turned from the Light to live normal lives; and now, it was too late to seek its help.

"What do you think this will accomplish?" Yugi shouted at them desperately. "Killing us won't change anything!"

"Who said we _wanted_ to change anything?" Bakura sneered. "Those of us who walk in Darkness kill for fun. You wouldn't understand, and you don't need to. You won't be able to understand anything in a few seconds anyway."

And then, a priceless sight: The four friends took hold of each other's hands. _How very fitting that they'll die united,_ Bakura thought, smirking. _Their precious unity can't save them-_

"_NOW_!"

The shout came, not from Marik or Bakura, but from Tristan and Joey, as they charged at their would-be killers shoulder-first. It was just enough surprise for Yugi and Tea to follow right behind and take advantage of however much of a gap their bigger and stronger friends could provide them.

For some reason, neither Marik nor Bakura had expected this, so they hadn't planned for it. As a result, they both responded in different ways. Bakura prioritized spilling Yugi's blood, so he lunged at the boy while trying to dodge Joey's tackle, just barely managing to make a large gash in Yugi's arm before Joey knocked him into the wall across the alley - not nearly as much as he would have wanted, but Yugi's cry of pain was still delicious. Marik, on the other hand, aimed his weapon at the first thing that presented itself to him: In this case, Tristan's right shoulder, which he instinctively plunged the golden spike into with all his strength, augmented by Tristan's own momentum.

Joey and Tea were in the clear, supporting Yugi between them; but by pure chance, the Millennium Rod ended up going right in between Tristan's shoulderblade and his collarbone, meeting no resistance as it plunged through the young man's flesh, effectively impaling him. His body's instinct tried to reverse the direction it was moving as soon as the wound registered, ruining his tackle and causing him to stumble.

He screamed at the top of his lungs in pain.

Bakura was still a little sore from where he'd hit the wall, but he closed his eyes and relished the ear-splitting noise ripping through the alley. _This_ was noise he liked, noise he _loved_ \- perhaps not unlike the way Marik loved the sound of his motorcycle's engine. It filled him with pleasure, made him feel alive like nothing else. A human's agony, incarnated into sound - the most beautiful sound in the world. He was only sad that Marik had been the one to cause it.

Marik had to struggle not to lose his grip on the golden weapon as Tristan tried to fall to the ground; the prongs on the head were his saving grace. He stared at his work, wide-eyed. The only time he'd ever torn flesh and spilled blood was when he'd been under the influence of his far-more-evil alter ego, or completely under his control - never completely willingly, never like this. It was a stab, not a slash, so there wasn't much blood, but Tristan's face screwed up in sheer agony, his cry gurgling and fading from hearing as his lungs ran out of air until he was screaming silently…It was far from unpleasant to Marik. It even felt good, in a way. There was just one thing marring the experience…

And as Tristan collapsed, wounded, perhaps fatally, this was all Marik could think about.

Other voices began to pierce the air - cries of "Tristan!" ripped from the mouths of his friends as they watched him fall. Joey ran back for his best friend without thinking, Yugi and Tea looking on in complete shock, her still supporting her other wounded friend. It had been a long, _long_ time since they'd faced something like this - after a few years of evil plots being centered around the game of Duel Monsters, actual physical bodily harm had dropped greatly on their list of concerns. But now, blood was streaming from Yugi's arm, and Tristan…

Joey grabbed Tristan and tried to pull him away, not really thinking about proper stab wound care. Marik held on, and the spike came out with a sickening, squelching sound that made Marik shudder. He was in too much shock at everything that had happened do anything more, and Bakura was still picking himself up off the ground; it was enough for Joey to throw Tristan's weight over his shoulder and run, shortly followed by Tea supporting Yugi. A few seconds later, they were out of sight, splatters of blood left on the pavement in their wake.

Bakura shook off the impact his body had had with the nearby wall and walked up beside his partner.

"You idiot," he hissed. "You let them go! You could have stabbed him again, even gotten a hit on Joey-!"

He cut off abruptly as he registered that Marik wasn't listening.

The young Egyptian stood frozen, staring at the tool in his hands, his violet eyes wide and distant, as though they didn't really see what they were looking at. The spike was completely coated in red, blood still dripping from the tip ever-so-slowly. It was a sight he'd never really created by his own, uninfluenced hand before.

"Marik?"

Marik didn't even stir at the sound of his name.

"Marik, are you…alright?" The words left Bakura's lips without him meaning to speak them, and he immediately felt ashamed that he'd let such a question out of his mouth. Like he cared!

…He didn't care.

He _didn't_ care.

_Really_, he didn't care…

"I stabbed him," Marik said tonelessly.

"Yes," Bakura agreed, "yes you did."

A bit of a frown began to form on Marik's expressionless face. "It felt weird."

This was an odd comment, one Bakura didn't know how to take. He took the safe route and stayed silent.

"It felt squishy," Marik continued, his nose wrinkling slightly in what appeared to be distaste, his facial expressions still oddly subdued.

"It does, yes," Bakura said cautiously.

Marik shook his head slightly. "It felt…yucky," he said. "I didn't like it. I mean, Tristan screaming - I liked _that_. But it was all slimy…" He shifted his grip to rub two of his fingers together, fingers that were coated with blood. "It's sticky."

"Yes," Bakura agreed, smiling now as he looked at Yugi's blood on his knife. He ran a finger through it and mimicked Marik's gesture, the weird, uneven mix of slimy and sticky unique and wonderful, a sensation he'd sorely missed. "I'd almost forgotten how sticky blood can be…there's really nothing quite like it."

"I'll say," Marik muttered.

A few seconds passed in silence. At last, Bakura lightly prodded one tan, gold-adorned arm. "Marik?"

Marik flinched, then seemed to snap out of it, blinking his eyes a few times rapidly before focusing on Bakura. "What?"

"You let them go," Bakura said pointedly.

"Oh." Marik looked around, as though expecting to see Yugi and his friends still there somewhere. "I guess I did…sorry."

Bakura shifted uneasily. "Marik, was hurting someone…distasteful to you?"

"Hmm? Oh. Well…" Marik frowned, fully this time, apparently thinking things over. "Hurting someone? No," he answered at last. "_Stabbing_ someone, yes. My hands are all gross now."

It was one of those rare instances where Bakura was the one to blink. Getting his hands dirty? _That_ was what Marik was in shock over? Of all the most unlikely objections, Bakura had never dreamed he'd be faced with this one.

He took a breath. "Marik, you dug up a collapsed Egyptian tomb with your bare hands for five and a half years," he said. "Getting your hands dirty shouldn't be an issue."

"But that was when I was _bored_, though," Marik said, and if Bakura hadn't known better, he would have thought Marik was arguing the point with him - but of course, no one was that mental. "I felt like I had no choice, like I had nothing else to do," Marik went on. "And I didn't _like_ it." He looked down at his arms and scowled. They had begun to slim during the past month, going from bulging back to lean, but they were still too bulky for his taste. "I especially didn't like what it did to my figure. I look better on the slender side. Besides," he added, "actual dirt doesn't stain the way blood does. Dirt, I can just wash off, but blood ruins clothing."

Oh dear Zorc. Marik _was_ arguing the point.

Bakura raised his free, clean hand to rub his forehead against the headache that was forming behind his eyes. "So you're saying you don't want to stab anyone, not because you have moral standards, but basically because you're…vain."

"Appearances are important!" Marik snapped. "I know you disagree, the way you leave your hair all fluffy and your skin pale as a ghost, but I for one like to look good!" He sheathed the bloody weapon, restoring the Millennium Rod to its full form, looking distastefully at the smears of blood his fingers were leaving on the gold.

"F-Fluffy?!" Bakura sputtered, feeling weirdly offended by the comment. It sounded too…cute. And if there was one thing he was definitely _not_, it was cute.

"Yes, fluffy!" Marik spat. "Wild fluffy creampuff! Your head looks like an albino Kuriboh! I wouldn't expect you to understand the importance of appearances with that-"

Marik's words were cut off as Bakura abruptly socked him in the jaw.

"Shut. Up," the dark spirit snarled through gritted teeth.

Marik stumbled slightly but recovered quickly. "Whatever."

Bakura gave his snobby partner one last deadly glare before bringing the conversation back to the situation at hand. "The point here is that you let Yugi and his friends get away because you didn't like how it felt to stab someone!"

"Well it's not like I would know from experience!" Marik retorted. "My other self, yes, but not _me_. I didn't know it would be so gross."

Bakura felt his headache returning. He couldn't handle this line of discussion anymore. "Should we go after them?" he asked instead. "Or I guess I should ask, should _I_ go after them, _princess_?"

If Marik was offended by the comment, he didn't show it. Instead, his eyes turned oddly thoughtful, as though he were actually weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

"No," he said at last. "Let them go."

"Why?" Bakura demanded.

Marik smiled. "They didn't know I was here."

"And?"

"That means my sister didn't tell them I was here."

"So?"

"So, they don't know that my sister knows anything," Marik said.

Bakura caught up, and his eyes widened. "Ohh…" He gave a wicked chuckle. "I like the way you think," he purred. "_When_ you think, anyway."

Never, in three thousand years, had Bakura spoken words he would regret more.


	9. Fall Apart

Ishizu had sunk to the floor, propped up against a wall, by the time Yugi finished telling her exactly what had happened.

"Dear gods," she breathed as he concluded his tale. She felt dizzy, faint, numb, but somehow also hurting so much, every beat of her heart was painful…

"You said you knew…?" Yugi half-asked hesitantly.

It took a few tries before Ishizu found her voice. "Marik sent me a letter," she managed at last, "telling me…that he'd dug up the Millennium Items, and was with the evil spirit of the Ring, whom he brought back somehow…telling me that he had chosen darkness."

"I thought his dark side was gone," Yugi said.

"I did too!" Ishizu cried. "I really thought it was over. I don't know why he would turn from us again…I tried so hard to let him know that we didn't hate him for the things he'd done, that we forgive him and love him…"

"Maybe you tried too hard?" Yugi suggested.

Ishizu sighed. "Maybe," she said, not even sure what she was agreeing with.

"Ishizu…I'm so sorry," Yugi said softly.

"Don't apologize to me," she told him, a bit of surprise worming its way through the grief. "You didn't do this. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Yugi told her. "I know you tried your best to help Marik, and I know he's hurt you as much as he's hurt us. More, even - stab wounds are one thing, but your own brother has betrayed you twice now. I can't imagine how you must feel…I wish there was something I could do for you."

A little bubble of hysterical laughter escaped Ishizu's throat. Typical Yugi - her brother had put one of his best friends in the hospital, and he still found it in his heart to be concerned about _her_ feelings. He was such a bright, pure soul…the only one who could ever have made Atemu's soul complete…

"Listen…I know this is hard for you," Yugi said, and another laugh started clawing at her throat. "But…what should we do? Marik is…dangerous, now. He and Bakura tried to kill us. Well…Bakura wanted to kill us. For what it might be worth, I don't think Marik was as into it as Bakura was."

"Thank you," Ishizu breathed.

"But still, what should we do?" Yugi asked. "We need to do something - one or both of them might come back to try again. And even if it's not us, they might hurt other people."

Ishizu managed to chuckle in spite of everything. "Yugi…have you called the police?" she asked.

Silence over the line told her that he hadn't thought of that.

"I know you're used to facing these things…these people…yourself," Ishizu said, "but there's no need to do that now. There's no way you _could_. Leave it to people whose job it is to keep everyone safe."

"But Marik and Bakura both have Millennium Items," Yugi pointed out. "Magic. And I don't think they'd hesitate to use it."

"That doesn't make it your problem to fix," Ishizu told him. "It doesn't matter how much experience you have with magic if you have none of your own to counter it with. I know how badly you want to do something, Yugi - I wish it too! But there's nothing…"

She trailed off.

_I wonder if it will choose someone else to wield it…_

Ishizu's eyes were drawn to the table where she'd spent night after night trying to reassemble the Millennium Puzzle. One of the pieces had fallen onto the floor when she'd dropped it to pick up the phone. The Puzzle wouldn't come together for her…but Yugi had solved it. He was the chosen one, or at least _a_ chosen one.

"Ishizu?"

The Egyptian woman took a deep breath. "Yugi," she said firmly, "stay with your friends, stay safe, and wait for me. I'm coming to you, and I'm bringing something with me that might help."

"Okay," Yugi said without hesitation. "I hope we'll see you soon."

"Me too," she said softly as she hung up. "And I hope Fate is still with us."

She forced herself to her feet and walked through the house to wake Odion.

"What is it?" he asked her when he was awake.

"Something's happened," Ishizu told him, unable to bring herself to repeat the whole story.

But Odion's eyes narrowed slightly, showing he understood well enough. "What are we going to do?"

"_I'm_ going to Domino City," Ishizu said, "and I'll be bringing the only thing that might be able to stop this madness."

"The Millennium Puzzle." It wasn't a question.

Ishizu nodded. "I need you to stay here and keep looking for the Millennium Necklace," she told him. "Retrieving the Items and keeping them safe is very important, we mustn't forget that."

Odion nodded. "I will," he vowed.

"Thank you, my brother," Ishizu said gratefully. "I hope I can put an end to this soon."


	10. Walking in Darkness

"Did you see the looks on their faces?!"

Bakura smiled. "When?" he asked. "When I appeared, when _you_ appeared, when we laughed at them-?"

"When we laughed at them," Marik said. "I made myself watch after you told them we weren't interested in playing a card game - which wasn't easy, I was laughing so hard, but it was _so_ worth it to see that moment when they figured out what we were going to do…!" He gave a very undignified, yet somehow weirdly endearing, squeal of delight.

Marik was over his blood-mess issue (for now, at least), and they were walking back to Ryou's place so Marik could get his motorcycle. Things hadn't gone anywhere nearly as they would have liked, but there _had_ been some priceless moments…and Bakura was relieved to hear that Marik felt the same way.

"If you found it that enjoyable, then there's no question that you walk in Darkness," Bakura said.

"Did you doubt me?" Marik asked, mildly offended.

"I must confess that I did," Bakura admitted, "especially when you started whining about bloodstains. But if instilling the fear of death in innocent people makes you laugh - especially people who would call themselves your friends - then I suppose it doesn't matter how stupidly vain you are; you belong with me."

"Well, if Zorc himself says it, it's gospel," Marik said, and Bakura couldn't tell how much of that statement was in jest. "I'm proud to have won the Dark One's approval."

Bakura chuckled, then sobered. "There _is_ still the problem of what exactly living with the Darkness will mean for you," he said warningly. "If you can't handle getting blood on your hands - or any other part of your being or property - that severely limits your options."

"The only reason you think that is because you grew up in ancient Egypt," Marik said dismissively. "There are _lots_ of bloodless ways to hurt people nowadays."

"I…suppose that's true," Bakura admitted. "I personally just don't really see the point unless I get to feel blood run between my fingers."

"Wow," Marik said, his tone weirdly impressed. "That's pretty hardcore."

"Will it bother you if I go off on my own for it?" Bakura asked.

"Not at all!" Marik assured him as they turned the corner and Ryou's place came into view. "You do your thing. Just as long as the mess you make isn't my problem."

Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Speaking of which…" Marik strolled purposefully inside, and Bakura knew he was going to wash all the blood off - probably spend an hour trying to scrub the bloodstains out of his clothes. The ancient spirit walked inside after him, a great deal more content with the sticky mess he carried. In fact, he sat down in the living room just so he could gaze at the blood on his knife.

It was coagulating, solid but not dry. And it was _Yugi's_ blood. That stupid boy…a champion for Light if ever there was one, all purity and innocence. Utterly disgusting. And now, Bakura had managed to inflict an actual injury on him. Sure, he wasn't dead, but spilling some of his blood was better than none. This blood…it would be a waste to wash it off, as though it had belonged to just anybody. No - Yugi Moto wasn't just anybody. He was about as far from "just anybody" as a person could be.

Bakura brought the knife to his mouth and ran his tongue along one side of the blade, wiping off some of the sticky globules. He half expected to be able to taste the Light that filled that boy, as though he was so full of it that it would leak out with his very lifeblood. But no…no. Though the person the blood had come from was about as far from "just anybody" as a person could be, the blood itself tasted exactly the same. There was nothing special about it.

And somehow, that made it even more delicious.

~X~

"I'm _fine_," Yugi told the doctor for the fifth time since he'd hung up the phone, resisting the man's pleas that he return to his room and rest. "I've dealt with much worse."

"But the muscle damage-"

"Look, it's patched up, isn't it?" Yugi exclaimed. "It's cleaned and sewn shut and bandaged. I'm fine! What I need is to see my friends!"

"Yugi!"

As if on cue, Tea and Joey ran up to meet him. Seeing this, the doctor gave up and left to help less troublesome patients.

"Are you alright?" Tea asked breathlessly.

"I'm fine," Yugi reassured her. He looked between her and Joey. "Tristan?"

Joey shook his head. "They won't tell us anything," he grumbled.

Yugi sighed. Then, abruptly, he turned and punched the wall with his good hand.

"How can this be happening?" he cried.

"I was about to ask you!" Joey exclaimed. "We figured if anyone knew what was going on, it would be you, Yug."

Yugi shook his head. "I'm as confused as you are," he told them. "I thought this was supposed to be over. The Millennium Items were buried under a mile of rubble, and the evil spirit of the Ring…he's supposed to be _gone_! We _saw_ him be destroyed!"

"And that angel lady told us there wasn't gonna be any more bad guys," Joey added angrily. "Once the Pharaoh lost a Duel and moved on or whatever, we were all supposed to be able to live happily ever after!"

"I guess it was naïve to think it would be that easy," Yugi sighed. He looked between his friends. "I called Ishizu. She said she knew that Marik had dug up the Millennium Items and even about the evil spirit of the Ring, but she'd had no idea what they would try to do."

"She _knew_?" Tea exclaimed. "She _knew_, and she didn't tell us?"

"I guess she figured it wasn't any of our business anymore," Yugi said. "She only found out about a week ago, when she got a letter from Marik. A handwritten one - it could have been in the mail as long as three weeks before it got to her, which lines up with pretty much exactly with when Marik flew here from Egypt."

"Wait, Marik flew out here a _month_ ago?" Joey asked. "She didn't even think to tell us that much? He was supposed to be our friend! _Supposed_ to be…" He scowled.

"I don't know," Yugi said tiredly. "Maybe he used the Millennium Rod on her so she wouldn't think to tell us. Or maybe she just wanted to leave us alone, figured he'd contact us himself if he felt like it."

"Well, he sure did that," Joey growled.

"She's on her way here now," Yugi told his friends, "says she has something that might be able to help us sort this out. In the meantime, we need to keep ourselves safe."

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Joey asked.

Yugi couldn't help smiling, relieved he hadn't been the only one to be slow to apply common sense. "The police," he said.

Joey and Tea stared at him as though he'd spoken a foreign language.

"The last time we tried to get the police involved in this stuff, they were all working for the bad guy, remember?" Tea pointed out at last.

"Bakura and Marik aren't Dartz," Yugi said. "And they aren't using magic to fight - Bakura cut me, and Marik stabbed Tristan. I think that's more than enough to warrant getting the police involved."

"I don't wanna have to count on someone else to handle this," Joey objected. "We've handled bigger baddies than this on our own!"

Yugi glanced meaningfully at his injured arm. "Things are different this time."

"They're _always_ different this time!" Joey retorted.

"It's different in that this time they're using actual blades instead of playing a card game!" Tea interjected.

"A _very_ _important_ _and_ _meaningful_ card game!" Joey exclaimed.

"No, Joey, she's right," Yugi said; "Duel Monsters really is just a game. It's based off an ancient form of battle, which is why a lot of our enemies have used it, but on its own, it's harmless. And if our enemies don't feel like using it this time around, it's useless."

"Alright, so they wanna do it old-school?" Joey sneered. "Fine! I can play old-school too!"

"Yeah, until Marik uses that Millennium Rod to turn you into a mindless slave who tries to chain Yugi to an anchor and drown him," Tea said pointedly.

"I broke free of that creep's magic once, I can do it again!" Joey shouted.

"No, Joey," Yugi said again. "This is exactly the problem: They have magic, but we don't. They have two Millennium Items between them. It's like Ishizu said to me when I talked to her just now: No amount of experience fighting magic helps if you don't have any of your own to use against it. We might as well let the people whose job it is to protect us handle this until Ishizu gets here."

"I wonder what she's bringing?" Tea wondered out loud.

"I…don't know," Yugi said. "Huh." He thought. "Maybe some of the Millennium Items. From the way she talked about it, it sounded like Marik dug up _all_ of them."

"I didn't need a Millennium Item to knock that white-haired freak into a wall," Joey grumbled.

"You surprised him, Joey," Tea stated. "If he'd seen you coming, he would have knocked you halfway across the city with that Millennium Ring."

"I've never seen Bakura use that Millennium Ring to do anything since Duelist Kingdom," Joey argued. "And even that was coupled with Duel Monsters."

"Actually, that makes it more dangerous," Yugi said, much to Joey's dismay. "We don't know what that Item does. Bakura didn't flaunt it in our faces like Pegasus and Marik did with theirs."

"Or like Dartz did with that Orichalcos thing," Tea added. "Come to think of it…Bakura's really the only person we've ever fought who didn't spell out his entire plan for us from the get-go."

Yugi nodded. "He's smart," he said. "Three thousand years of plotting probably doesn't hurt."

"But is that really the same Bakura we defeated six years ago?" Joey asked. "I mean…it _can't_ be! We saw him get wiped out! With the Pharaoh gone too, he should be ancient history!"

"You saw it too, Joey," Yugi said grimly. "He gave our friend time to tell us he was sorry for luring us into that trap before he took over. That's not _our_ Bakura. I don't know how the evil spirit of the Ring is back, but he is." Again, he gestured to his wounded arm. "I don't need magic to feel it."

"Maybe…but our Bakura's still in there," Tea said thoughtfully. "The evil spirit let him talk, so he's in there."

"Maybe we should go to his place," Joey suggested.

"Maybe we should tell the _police_ to go to his place," Yugi corrected sternly. "Until we get some magic of our own, we need to play it safe and stay here. If the way they were acting is any indication, there's a strong chance that they might come back to finish us off. We need to lie low, unless we want to end up like Tristan…or worse."

~X~

Bakura stared out a window as the sun set, bored, while he waited for Marik. Two injuries, one fatality _tops_ \- and the likelihood that Marik had managed to deliver a killing blow was not good. Just as those children had forgotten about conflict before Duel Monsters, so had he forgotten about how good humans were at fighting for their lives. Sure, he'd managed to spill some of Yugi's blood, but the more he thought about what they'd done that day, the more he concluded that things had not gone well at all. The question was, was it worth trying to finish what they'd started? They no longer had the element of surprise on their side, and while magic had its uses, humans could make enormous nuisances of themselves.

And speaking of humans who were nuisances…

"Bakura," Marik called as he came in.

"Hello, Marik," Bakura said, "are you feeling pretty enough yet?"

"Eh, barely," Marik replied without even the tiniest trace of irony. "I can live with this for now." He sat down - well, really, he sort of flounced down onto the sofa, taking up as much space as his limbs could cover. Bakura had seen a lot of strange mortals throughout the centuries, but Marik was still completely baffling to him. Odd how someone who seemed on some level to have so much in common with Bakura could still be so headache-inducingly…_weird_. "So," Marik asked, "what do we do now?"

"I was just starting to contemplate that myself," Bakura replied. "I'd like to stay here and try to finish off Yugi and his friends, but that won't be easy now…it might not be worth bothering with, at least for the time being. In the meantime, we could try to set up a permanent hideout…or I suppose we could just drive across the country, stealing from and murdering random people along the way."

"Ooh, a road trip!" Marik sat up, a light in his eyes. "That sounds like fun!"

Bakura gave a very, very tired sigh. Yes. _Very_ headache-inducingly weird.

"What do you think your sister will do now?" Bakura asked. "Assuming, of course, that Yugi contacted her…"

"I have absolutely no idea," Marik said cheerfully. "That's the beauty of it: What _can_ she do? I can't think of anything!"

"Then you'd better think harder," Bakura growled, "or maybe you just need to think, period. You of all people should know that your sister is highly resourceful." He frowned as something occurred to him. "Did you tell her that you dug up the other Millennium Items in that letter you sent her?" he demanded abruptly.

Marik shrank back at his sudden harshness. "I…might have…?" he said timidly.

"_Ugh_," Bakura groaned, rubbing his temples as another headache started to build up. Seriously, how could one mere mortal give him this much of a headache? "Wonderful. She's probably tracked them down by now - she's single-minded like that, I noticed. And if Yugi contacted her, she might bring some of them to use against us."

"Don't you think that's a little paranoid?" Marik asked. "I mean, Ishizu just wants all this stuff to be stashed away somewhere so no one can use it." A hint of bitterness laced the young Egyptian's words, and Bakura wondered at it but didn't comment. "Even if she does come here, I can't really see her carrying the Millennium Items to lead a battle against us," Marik went on. "She doesn't like fighting…_and_ she loves me too much."

_Definitely_ some bitterness in there. "Would you rather she not love you?" Bakura found himself asking curiously, wondering why the hell he was even acting like he cared.

Marik sighed and looked at the floor. "It would make everything a lot easier," he said softly, almost more to himself than to his companion. "I mean-"

Whatever Marik was about to say was cut off by the abrupt sound of sirens blaring outside. Marik turned and looked, his face a show of pure confusion. "What the…?"

Bakura sighed. "I should have expected this," he said. "Today has really not been my day in terms of expecting things of people."

"What is all that?" Marik asked.

Bakura smirked. "Yugi and his friends called the police on us."

"The _police_?" Marik repeated, as though the word were from a foreign language. "Well that's kind of low, isn't it? I mean, since when do they ask the police for help?"

"Marik, we cornered the four of them in a dark alley, I gave Yugi a gash on his arm, and you stabbed his friend in the shoulder with an enormous metal stake," Bakura said matter-of-factly; "the police have every reason to get involved. Honestly, I'm surprised they didn't get here sooner."

"But how? Why are they _here_?" Marik asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"Because we let Yugi and his friends know that Ryou is with us, and this is where Ryou lives," Bakura explained, his patience waning yet again. "It's really very easy to figure out." He stood up. "Time to go," he told his partner in crime. "I hope your motorcycle is still relatively out of the way?"

"Yes…" Marik said slowly. "But…I've never had to ride through a group of police."

Bakura smirked. "Don't worry," he reassured Marik, "I can get rid of any obstacles that might present themselves." He reached up and gave the golden ornament that hung from his neck a loving stroke.

~o~

The most unfortunate part of their situation, at least as far as Bakura was concerned, was that he had to actually ride with Marik this time, rather than making it Ryou's problem. The rest? Laughable. But he had to personally, consciously ride a bloody _motorcycle_, and that was a nuisance like nothing else.

For Marik, it was completely different. The police cars crowding the street, lights flashing, sirens wailing; the men with their uniforms and their guns, some ready to start shouting demands, others preparing to break down the door…It was actually quite an intimidating spectacle to him. The last time he'd had to deal with a crowd like this, Ishizu had hired them, and they had been at her command. Now? Those guns were dangerous.

"I bloody hate guns," Bakura grumbled from behind Marik as they climbed onto the motorcycle. "Bloody cheating bastards. Too easy, too impersonal…anyone can fight with a bloody _gun_. An _idiot_ could use a gun. Stupid humans, always trying to make everything too easy…"

"Bakura, could you keep it down?" Marik muttered.

It took every ounce of self-control Bakura had not to burst out into laughter that would have been perfectly audible to everyone within a mile radius. "You're asking _me_ to keep quiet?" he managed through the chuckles he tried to keep as low as possible. "You're about to make a huge bloody racket that I couldn't hope to rival."

"I know," Marik said softly, "but…"

Bakura waited. "But what?" he asked when Marik showed no signs that he was going to finish his sentence.

"Bakura, I'm…" Marik shifted uncomfortably in his seat and turned around to meet Bakura's eyes. "I'm…"

"…scared," Bakura finished for him. Those violet eyes were wide with childlike terror, and now that he mentioned it, Bakura noticed that Marik's hands were gripping the handlebars a bit too tightly, probably to keep them from shaking. "You're scared. Of what?"

"Guns," Marik admitted. "I mean…not guns in general. It's just…well, it's like you said, it's so easy to shoot someone. I've never had to dodge bullets before…"

Bakura sighed and shifted a bit closer, holding Marik a little more tightly to help keep him steady - no other reason, of course. "Marik," he murmured in the frightened human's ear, "I told you, I can get rid of any obstacles they can throw at us. Just trust me, and you'll be safe." He hesitated before adding, "I promise."

Marik reached to start up the engine…and then, to Bakura's exasperation, he hesitated again.

"Prove it," the scared little child challenged him.

But in response to _that_, Bakura smiled. "I thought you'd never ask," he hissed. He closed his eyes and took a moment to focus. His Ring started to glow…

…and then one of the police cars outside blew up.

Fire and metal rained down on the men who had looked so menacing with their fancy guns just moments ago. They scattered, crying out, confused and disoriented beyond hope.

"Whoa!" Marik exclaimed, his expression lighting up almost as brilliantly as the car. "That was awesome!"

"Drive out there and I'll show you what else I can do," Bakura told him, grinning wickedly.

"_Yes_!" Marik started that damn noisy engine and kicked it straight into high gear. The result was an honest-to-Zorc launch out of the side alley they'd been parked in, and for a moment, they truly were flying. Bakura smiled and focused on the shapes and people below him, then sent a pulse out from the Ring that tossed everyone and everything remotely close to being in their path halfway down either side of the street, as though an invisible meteor had struck in the middle of the crowd.

Marik whooped and laughed. It wasn't usually Bakura's style to show off like that, but he found himself getting weirdly caught up in Marik's enthusiasm. There really was something to be said for making a spectacle every now and then…watching humans scream and scatter like ants beneath his feet was exhilarating, he couldn't deny it. It must have been the Zorc in him.

It _certainly_ couldn't have been that he was sharing merriment with a human. No, that had nothing to do with it at all.

~o~

They rode, straight as an arrow, out of Domino City, just like the day Marik had first bought the damn motorcycle. For the first time, Bakura rode himself, without letting Ryou out of the Ring. The noise was still annoying, but it got more bearable over time, the wind and engine sort of blending together into a constant white noise that could be tuned out. Bakura hoped this didn't mean his body was going deaf.

The other difference from a month ago is that they had absolutely no idea what to do now.

Sure, their plans had been in the fledgeling stages (at most) the first time they'd left the city limits, but now they weren't even sure what they were going to work towards. Marik, however, turned out to be a person of habit, as he went straight to their little makeshift campsite without even asking Bakura about it. Bakura didn't object; it was probably one of the better options at the moment.

"So," Marik said as he turned off his machine and the blissful silence of the night returned to fill the air, "now what?"

"I don't know," Bakura admitted, dismounting. "This does change things. We probably shouldn't stay here for too long, actually - if law enforcement in general has gotten involved, our old hiding-in-plain-sight, cloak-and-dagger style won't work anymore."

"So we're fugitives now?" Marik asked, his tone indecipherable. "Official criminals?"

"I suppose you could say that," Bakura replied.

Bakura wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it was _not_ for Marik's face to split into a huge grin.

"Finally!" Marik exclaimed. "Haha, this is so exciting!"

Bakura stared at Marik. And stared. And stared some more. He stared for a full two minutes, until Marik's grin finally faltered slightly.

"Marik," he slowly said at last, "what the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Eh?" Marik responded, surprised. "What do you mean? I thought we were evil and stuff. Does that count?"

"No," Bakura sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing temples. "For us? No, that's not something wrong, it's simply the term that describes who we are and how we go about our lives - it would be more wrong to try to deny it. But you're…I can't say you aren't evil, if how much you enjoyed terrorizing Yugi and his friends is any indication, but I _am_ starting to wonder if you're also completely bloody mad."

"For being proud to be a criminal?" Marik asked, still confused. "Why shouldn't I be? If we're going to make people afraid, we need to get recognition. I mean, how can we scare people if people don't know there's something to be scared of?"

Bakura's headache doubled - not because what Marik was saying was stupid, but because it actually made complete and total sense. _One second, he's an idiot; the next second, he's insane; and the second after that, he's actually effectively evil,_ Bakura thought. _How the bloody hell am I supposed to maintain my _own_ sanity around this child? To walk in Darkness is to dance with madness, it's true, but I've managed to walk the line…but Marik isn't walking it, he jumping from one side to the other, sometimes landing on it and sometimes not, like he's constantly playing a game of moral and intellectual hopscotch! Zorc help me…_

"You okay, Bakura?" Marik questioned, frowning. "Did I…did I do something wrong?"

_And now he's acting like he cares what I think!_ Bakura squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples even harder.

_Maybe you shouldn't try to understand it,_ a gentle voice suggested. _Maybe some people just can't be understood._

_Oh, shut the bloody hell up,_ Bakura growled at Ryou.

_I'm…just trying to help…_Ryou said timidly.

_Don't,_ Bakura snapped. _Do not ever try to help. Anytime you help, something goes wrong._

_But I did everything you said!_ the young man exclaimed. _It's not my fault they fought their way out! Please don't blame me…_

Bakura rolled his eyes behind his closed lids. _I don't blame you, don't worry,_ he told the child. _I underestimated them, that was on me. I'm not going to punish you for my mistake - I'm a monster, not a narcissist._

_Thanks,_ the boy whimpered before retreating back into the Ring.

"Bakura?" The pale figure had gone still, frozen in a half-hunched position with his hands at his temples and his eyes shut tightly, and Marik had no idea what he'd done to put him in such a state. Bakura always seemed unshakable, cold and calculating and prepared - he got angry, yes, but he never cracked. Seeing him like this was actually kind of scary.

When the dark spirit didn't respond to the sound of his name, Marik hesitantly reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Bakura?" he asked again, softly. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please say something."

At last, Bakura took an audible breath. "You are the most impossibly baffling person I've ever had the misfortune to run across in the over three thousand years I've been walking this earth," he growled.

Marik nearly collapsed with relief. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that Bakura had just insulted him, but at least that frightening moment where Bakura didn't seem himself was over.

"I'd rather deal with Yugi," Bakura continued under his breath. "At least I know what to expect of that boy." He took another deep breath and straightened, his hands returning to his sides, and he opened his eyes. Before Marik could say anything, Bakura blinked as he realized exactly what position they were in, then shot a deadly glare at Marik. His lip curled in disgust, and he jerked away from the hand that was still resting on his shoulder. "Don't touch me, mortal," he spat. "I don't need your pity."

"Sorry," Marik mumbled.

Bakura sighed heavily. Being an immortal spirit, he didn't need sleep like humans did, but tonight, Marik had done what the world could not: He'd worn Bakura out. Bakura met Marik's violet eyes…so dark in the wan moonlight, though they were almost lavender in the day, like his own had been in his first life…

"I'm going to sleep," he told his impossible partner. "Please at least try not to bother me until I wake up."

"Okay," Marik said, somehow having enough sense not to question this.

And with that, Bakura lay down on the grassy hill, and actually, genuinely fell asleep, for the first time in years.

Marik walked a safe distance away and sat down. He didn't feel tired tonight - everything had happened all at once today, and he couldn't relax. In particular, he remembered launching out from the hidden alley by Ryou's place and Bakura using the Millennium Ring to throw everyone out of the way. The memory made him smile. _That_ was power, right there - the kind of power he'd once imagined the great Pharaoh to wield, the power he'd once thought he was seeking for himself. But Bakura already had it. He didn't need the Egyptian Gods or some great hero's ancient magic - his own magic was more than enough.

_Everything I ever wanted was in the Darkness all along,_ Marik thought, slightly amused at himself.

He started to let his mind wander, reflecting on everything, and it occurred to him that people generally didn't think evil people considered themselves to be evil. People always try to justify what they do, so that they can pretend to themselves that they're doing the right thing. His father, for instance, carving up his back with a red-hot knife with no sympathy or explanation. Or the people who had chosen to sacrifice the people of Kuhl-Elna to create the Millennium Items. For the greater good, they'd say, for something bigger than the people they're hurting. But Marik knew that was stupid. Good? What good was good? There was no 'good' - even those who side with the Light hurt people.

People don't call themselves evil because they think being evil is something to be ashamed of, something to avoid. Marik wasn't ashamed. He owned what he was and was proud of it. The sight of Yugi and his friends having the fear of imminent death instilled in them was a beautiful thing in his eyes; seeing the fire and chaos and people getting hurt when he and Bakura had plowed through the police made him smile, made him laugh, made him happy. In his heart, he believed that nothing and no one deserved to know love, or peace, or happiness; other people's fear, pain, and suffering was something he relished (as long as he didn't get covered in bloodstains, at least). That was what people called 'evil', so that was what he was. And why should he be ashamed, when even people who feel bad about hurting other people do it anyway? Even the Lightest of the Light find excuses for hurting others. He and Bakura were living (sort of) examples of that.

No…he was proud to be evil. He would spend the rest of his life showing people what it meant to suffer, as they and those like them had made him and Bakura suffer, and the thought excited him. Darkness was the only true way of things - in the end, all Light fades away into the Darkness, whether the death of Light would mean the death of Darkness as well or not. Maybe the two forces couldn't exist without each other after the end, but when eventually one of them won, it would be the Darkness. If nothing else, Marik would be on the winning side.


	11. Refused

Ishizu was nervous as she flew to Domino City. She'd found a small box for the shattered Millennium Puzzle, and never let it out of her hands. Staring out the window as the world passed by beneath her, clinging to her only hope as it sat in her lap, she thought about all the people who could be hurt when Darkness reared its head. Yugi and his friends had stopped several evil plots - some with her help, some without - but it seemed like the Darkness only got stronger every time it fell, while Light passed on.

_Atemu,_ she thought. _If only you were here. You saved my brother before, and stopped the evil spirit of the Ring…no one else could have done what you did. The world _needs_ you right now, my Pharaoh…_

And that was secretly what she hoped for. If the spirit of the Ring was back, then perhaps Atemu had returned to the Millennium Puzzle as well. Then Yugi would solve it, and together they would save Marik and put a stop to Bakura once again - once and for all, even. She refused to accept that her brother was beyond saving - he had been a good person once, she had seen it, watched him play as a child and smile and laugh…She wanted that person back, more than she'd ever wanted anything, and she would do everything in her power to restore him.

She prayed to the gods during her journey, each and every one individually, by name and dominion, for their help. It really was in the gods' hands now. They had shown their favor before; she could only hope they would again.

~X~

Yugi couldn't sit still. He'd forced the hospital to discharge him as a patient, but there was still no word on Tristan's condition, and after calling the police, he began pacing back and forth, waiting, hoping, Tea and Joey sitting nearby. Everything felt like it was falling apart, and the silence in his head that he'd had to get used to after Atemu left was painful now - facing danger without his partner felt wrong in so many ways, it was difficult to handle. It felt like he shouldn't be surviving this feeling, like it was just too much, and he couldn't even figure out how his heart kept beating - it was as if he should have just fallen down and given up, and the only thing stopping him from doing so was his physical body's resilience. That was wrong, when the will to live came from the body, not the mind. And he knew he needed to push through it, for Tristan, for Ishizu, for everyone, just like he always had. But he'd never had to do it alone before…

Joey stared at the floor. He kept replaying that confrontation in his head, over and over. He and Tristan had butted heads with people before, they weren't pacifists like Yugi and Tea - and they'd worked together in that department plenty of times. When the four of them had taken hold of each other's hands, he'd felt Tristan squeeze his, and he'd known what his best friend was thinking. They'd given each other a few more signals, then launched. Joey remembered charging at Bakura, doing his best to avoid that knife - the white-haired bastard had lunged to his side, aiming for Yugi, and Joey had managed to slam his shoulder into Bakura's chest and knock him against the wall. He hadn't been in time to save Yugi from getting a bad cut on his arm, but it could have been a lot worse. But Tristan…Tristan had gone for Marik, who had been holding that spike. Had Tristan been careless? Had he just not thought to duck the golden weapon? If Joey had been the one to take on the Egyptian, would things have been different - or would _he_ be the one in surgery right now, with his friends waiting anxiously to find out if he was alive? Either way…if only he hadn't let Tristan be the one to charge Marik…

Tea hugged herself. She'd never been on the front lines of any fight; if ever she was in danger, her friends had always saved her - usually Yugi, either with magic or Duel Monsters. When push came to shove, she could shove, sure, but it was rare for her to get so close to danger herself. Really, the only other time had been when Marik had put her and Joey under his spell…come to think of it, it was always Marik. _Marik_. She'd thought he was their friend now. Yugi had banished that evil version of him to the Shadow Realm, and he'd been so friendly since then, even helping them out. Friendship was an unbreakable force, it had saved Yugi and his friends more than once, almost on its own - against Kaiba, against Pegasus, against Dartz, against Zorc, it had even saved Joey when he dueled Odion…and friends were forever. How could a friend turn his back on them so completely? It was wrong. Everything about this was wrong…

All in all, if Marik and Bakura had been there, they would both have sworn up and down that this was by far the happiest day of their lives.

Then, at last, news on Tristan's condition came.

"The weapon didn't come anywhere near his heart," a nurse told the three friends; "it pierced his lung, but that's easier to repair. The wound was clean, and not too difficult for the surgeons to fix up. He'll have a scar, but aside from that, there shouldn't be any lasting damage."

Joey and Tea literally collapsed with relief; Yugi had to force himself to stay standing, even as the tension went out of his shoulders. "Thank you," he told the nurse sincerely. "Can we see him?"

The nurse smiled. "He might not be fully conscious, but yes, you can see him," he told Yugi. "Follow me."

Tea and Joey sprang up, and they all followed, unsure whether to be nervous or eager. When they finally got to see their friend, he was lying on a hospital bed, surrounded by a lot of machines that beeped intimidatingly - but they knew from experience that those machines looked a lot scarier than they really were.

"Tristan!" Tea cried, lunging to his side, Yugi and Joey right behind her.

Tristan turned his head and looked at them, and a faint smile formed on his lips. "Hey," he said weakly. "Glad to see you're all okay."

Far in the future, the friends would look back on that statement and laugh; today, everything was deadly serious.

"Same to you," Joey said grimly. "You had us worried."

"I'm fine," Tristan groaned. "Just a little…tired. They put me on some stuff…" He looked between the three of them. "What happened out there? I guess we got away…"

"Joey knocked Bakura against a wall, after Bakura gave Yugi a gash on his arm," Tea told him. "You…you held Marik off long enough for me and Joey to get Yugi out, then Joey went back for you."

"What do you remember?" Yugi asked.

"You mean before or after I got stabbed?" Tristan asked, making a weak attempt at a joke.

"Actually…I meant during," Yugi said, surprising Joey and Tea. "Joey got you out of there pretty quickly, but not so quickly that Marik couldn't have stabbed one or both of you again. He must have hesitated. You…well, got the best look at him. What did you see?"

Tristan shook his head. "I didn't see anything," he told Yugi. "I charged at him, and he raised that spike and drove it through my shoulder…and that's the last thing I remember. I didn't really get a good look at his expression or anything like that." He frowned, thinking. "The only thing I can really say…is that he didn't hesitate to stab me when he did," he added after a minute. "I angled myself to avoid that stake - he stabbed me on purpose."

Yugi bowed his head. He'd wanted to be able to tell Ishizu that maybe Marik wasn't quite as keen to hurt people as he'd said, but Tristan's words only served to counter that theory.

"What have I missed since we got away?" Tristan asked. "Tea said you got hurt, Yugi…?"

"A gash on my arm," Yugi said, pulling his jacked down some to show the bandage. "Nothing too serious." He straightened his jacket, then added, "I called Ishizu to tell her what happened. She's on her way here now - she said she has something that might help. In the meantime, we should stay here just to be safe. I called the police and sent them to Ryou's house, so maybe we'll get lucky, but we should still stay put for now."

Tristan blinked. "The police?" he asked.

"Yeah, we were all surprised," Joey said. "Apparently, it was Ishizu's idea…I don't like it any more than you, but she's got one good point: Those two have Millennium Items, and we've got no magic and no way to defend ourselves, since they aren't playin' Duel Monsters anymore."

"Yeah…" Tristan turned his head back to the ceiling. "They were really gonna kill us, weren't they?"

"Sure seemed like it," Joey agreed.

Tristan sighed frustratedly. "Man…We just can't catch a break. I thought this was supposed to be _over_."

"We all did, pal," Joey said somberly. "None of us saw this one coming."

The others nodded.

~X~

Ishizu had told Yugi and his friends to stay put in the hospital, so she didn't bother asking around or making any calls. It took some self-restraint for her to not simply walk the rest of the way after she stepped off the jet - waiting for transportation was torture, even though she knew it would be faster in the end.

She half-expected to see her brother on the way, or even for him to come after her, but the city was unnervingly calm. She gripped the box in her hands tighter, as a shipwreck victim clings to a piece of driftwood in a storm. Her only hope…

When at last she got there, Yugi, Joey, and Tea were sitting in the reception area - staying put, as they'd agreed to. They all stood at the sight of her.

"Ishizu," Yugi greeted. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"I couldn't do anything else," Ishizu told him. She glanced between the three friends. "Tristan…?"

"He's fine," Yugi reassured her, "just resting. The doctors say he'll make a full recovery."

Ishizu's shoulders sagged in relief; her brother wasn't a true murderer…yet. No, no, she couldn't think like that. This wouldn't go any further. "I'm so glad to hear it," she told them. "I'm sorry I let this happen…"

"You didn't do this, your crazy brother did," Joey said flatly, not noticing her flinch.

Tea was a bit more diplomatic. "You had no idea what he was going to do," she said. "This isn't your fault." She blinked, then said, "Marik…He's betrayed you twice now, hasn't he?"

Ishizu took a breath, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Tea said softly. "I can't imagine how you must feel."

"Yes, well," Ishizu said, getting herself together, "maybe we can't change the past, but we can still work to keep this from getting any further." She lifted the box and handed it to Yugi.

"What is it…?" he asked, opening it. He gasped at the sight - the Millennium Puzzle, all in pieces, just like it had come to him so many years ago. He looked up at Ishizu. "The Millennium Puzzle…"

"I tried to solve it, but it doesn't want me," Ishizu told him. "You're the one the Puzzle chose."

"But will it help?" Yugi questioned. "Atemu's gone…"

"He might not be," Ishizu said before she could stop herself. "I mean…if that thief, Bakura, has returned, perhaps Pharaoh Atemu has returned as well. Only you would know. But even if not, the Puzzle contains great power on its own - enough to put a stop to this."

The three friends blinked. "What are you talkin' about?" Joey asked. "Sure, it's been useful and all, but it was the Pharaoh that did most of the stuff…"

Ishizu shook her head. "Without his memories, he forgot how to wield it, and none of you had any way of knowing," she told them. "The truth is, the Millennium Puzzle is the most powerful of the seven Millennium Items."

"I always noticed how the other Items had specific uses," Yugi mused aloud. "They all held shadow magic, but they all had unique powers, too - usually powers that matched their form."

Ishizu smiled and nodded. "Yes," she said, "you already understand. The Key that unlocks minds, the Eye that can see, the Scale that combines, the Rod that commands, the Ring with points that can locate its brethren…the Puzzle is similar. The pieces represent the forces that surround us and make up the universe - combined, they wield control over the very fabric of reality. That's why only those who are chosen by Fate can assemble it, and why it was given to the Pharaohs of Egypt and no others."

"The fabric of reality…?" Tea breathed.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?" Joey demanded.

A light dusting of pink appeared across Ishizu's caramel cheeks. "I…didn't think to," she said.

"Fat lot of good you did," Joey grumbled.

But Yugi nodded. "I once used the Puzzle to tear a hole in the Seal of Orichalcos - a force several times as ancient as this," he said. "I never really thought about it, but I guess I always knew that it held great power."

Ishizu turned to him. "Please, Yugi, you must assemble it," she said pleadingly.

Yugi nodded. "I will."

~o~

Joey and Tea caught Ishizu up on what had been going on while Yugi carefully cleared one of the small tables in the room and set down the box - it had been several years since he'd last assembled it, and as they had precious little time to waste, he needed to focus. He couldn't help remembering the night he'd put it together the first time, how he'd been up past his bedtime in his room, tinkering with them…He even found himself smiling slightly as he set the lid aside and gently dumped the pieces out on the table.

Then he picked up two pieces, and immediately noticed that something was wrong. He gasped, almost dropping them.

"Ishizu!" he exclaimed.

Ishizu turned away from Tea mid-sentence and ran over. "What is it?"

"Something's wrong," Yugi told her. "They…they don't feel right."

_No. Oh gods, no._ "M…Maybe Atemu isn't there," she offered. "We can make do without him - the Puzzle has enough power on its own."

Yugi frowned but nodded, and he started trying to put the pieces together. It had been years, but he was almost certain it hadn't felt like this before. Holding on to the pieces was almost difficult, as though the chunks of gold were trying to squirm out of his fingers. Even looking at the pieces, most of them looked exactly the same, he couldn't feel or see the subtle differences between them. The solution hadn't changed, but…

After an hour, he set down the two pieces in his hands and leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he told Ishizu, "I can't do it."

"You _have_ to!" Ishizu exclaimed. "Please, you've done it before-!"

"It won't let me," Yugi told her. "Looking at the pieces, I can barely tell them apart, and all of them feel like they try to jump out of my hands when I touch them. It doesn't want me anymore."

Ishizu's blood ran cold. She knew very well the sensation Yugi was describing - the Puzzle had felt the same way in her hands when she tried to put it together.

"Eh, let me try," Joey said, shoving Yugi out of his seat to take his place.

"Joey, I don't think-"

"I got this!" he said, picking up two pieces and pressing them together. "No, maybe…" He set one down and picked up another and tried again, the metal clinking as he slammed the bits into each other. As each piece refused him, he started going through them faster, eventually even trying all the sides of the bottom piece against the one he held. "Come on, _one_ of these has to go here!" he exclaimed.

"If the Puzzle doesn't want to be solved, it won't be solved," Yugi said.

"Maybe you could try, Tea?" Ishizu asked, utterly desperate.

Tea blinked. "Who, me? O-Oh, okay…" Joey grumbled and stood up so she could sit down. She looked carefully at the chunks of gold scattered on the table, her eyes focused in concentration. It was a few seconds before, slowly, she reached out and picked one up, then another with her other hand. Ishizu held her breath…

A piece slipped out of Tea's grip, and she gave a startled jump. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I-I didn't do that! I was holding it, and it was like something pulled it out of my hand!"

Ishizu sank to her knees, her heart cracking and breaking apart in chunks, until it was as shattered as the golden puzzle in front of them. "I don't understand," she said softly. "When Darkness bears down upon the world, Light always rises to meet it…"

"Maybe we aren't the ones who are supposed to fix this," Yugi said. "We were before, but maybe it's someone else's duty now."

Ishizu shook her head. "The Puzzle finds its way to the one meant to solve it," she said. "If there was someone else, Fate would have brought them and the Puzzle together somehow."

"Maybe it still will, though," Yugi said, trying to soothe her. "It hasn't been all that long since this started." He hesitated, then said, "I'll tell you what: I'll hold onto it, and I'll keep trying to solve it in my spare time. If something happens to bring someone else along, I'll make sure they get it."

"Would you?" Ishizu asked, her eyes glistening with tears of despair. "Please, Yugi…?"

"I will," he promised her. "I will."

And he would - try, that is. In the end, though, it wouldn't matter. This time, there was no champion of Light to wield the Puzzle, for the Darkness was not acting with brute force, like a fire raging to consume the world; this time, it would seep through the world slowly, like a poison, too subtle and nebulous to be stopped.


	12. Hunger for Chaos

The next morning, it was Bakura who awoke to find Marik watching him with sleepless eyes.

"Feeling better?" Marik asked.

Bakura groaned and sat up. "How long was I asleep?" he asked, rubbing his eyes, looking for all the world like a normal human being waking up after a good night's rest.

"I don't know," Marik said; "it's not like I kept track."

"Of course you didn't," Bakura muttered under his breath. He opened his eyes, gave them a moment to adjust, then looked to the sky. It was the kind of day Bakura hated - sunny and bright, not a cloud to be seen. The sun was high, shining almost directly above them in a vast expanse of blue. He hated the sun - the light was so annoying, and the feeling of the sun's rays on his bare skin made him cringe (though the warmth did remind him of home). But, in this moment, it was useful, because it told him that it was about noon. It had been nighttime when he'd finally had enough and collapsed in the grass, and not too late at night, so he'd been asleep for a fairly long time.

He sighed. "I need blood," he said.

Marik blinked. "Blood?" he repeated.

_Blood?_ echoed a frightened voice from within the Millennium Ring.

_Shut up,_ Bakura told Ryou. "Marik, start your motorcycle, we need to move," he said out loud.

"Okay," Marik said slowly. "Are we going back into the city, or…?"

Bakura shook his head. "Probably best to stay away from there right now," he told him. "Head the opposite direction. Just move. I'll tell you when to stop."

Marik's face lit up. "A road trip?" he all but squealed. "Yes!" He jumped to his feet and actually ran the few yards to his precious machine. It was an irritating response, but Bakura forced himself to focus on the small relief: At least Marik's quirks were consistent.

"Just drive," he grumbled, getting to his feet and walking over to join Marik at his motorcycle. "As fast as you can. And get off the highway and into a more…residential area, as soon as possible."

A slight shiver ran down Marik's spine, but he nodded and started up the vehicle. As he climbed on behind him, Bakura found another small thing to be grateful for: The way his ears reacted to the amount of noise the engine was making proved his body wasn't anywhere close to going deaf.

As they rode, first to the highway, then onwards, Bakura started to get twitchy. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax, then remembered to open them so he could see when they found what he was looking for. He couldn't even let Ryou out to deal with the motorcycle - he wasn't even thinking about the motorcycle at all, only about what he needed, as he let the familiar desire consume him. He felt his knife pressing into his hip through his pocket, and it was all he could do to keep his heart from beating. _Soon,_ he tried to tell himself. _Very soon. I'll get it as soon as I can…_

As instructed, Marik took the next exit they reached, which appeared to lead into a town of sorts. Bakura didn't care exactly what it was, only that there were people, beating hearts…

Suddenly, Marik pulled over and shut off the engine.

"What are you doing?!" Bakura roared.

Marik turned to glare at him. "Would you stop doing that?" he snapped.

"Doing what?"

"Your hands." Marik gestured to where Bakura was holding onto him. "Your fingers keep rubbing me. It's very distracting."

Bakura sat back, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Not Marik, no, it would not be Marik…he had to keep telling himself that…

Marik noticed that Bakura's hands were still twitching - the fingers were rubbing each other, now, the thumb against the other fingers on each hand, as if they were feeling dirt or something. And his expression wasn't just rigid - there was a muscle twitching under one eye.

"Bakura?" he asked, no longer annoyed. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Bakura growled through gritted teeth, every syllable strained, as though they were being ripped out of his throat one by one. "Just keep going."

"You don't look too good," Marik told him, getting concerned. "Is there anything-?"

"Just keep going!" Bakura shouted, his eyes snapping open to give Marik a glare that made his typical expression look as harmless as Ryou's would be.

"Okay, okay!" Marik exclaimed, starting up the engine again. He opened throttle, sending them flying down the street, an odd mix of worry and fear churning in his stomach. Whatever it was Bakura needed, he needed it _now_…if only he would tell Marik what it was.

Bakura clung to him silently, his fingers still moving around - and now that Marik knew it wasn't a conscious action, it was even more distracting than before. He'd never seen anyone act like this; the closest thing he could think of was how he acted in response to the headache that came with fighting his alter ego, and that was a scary thought. What sort of psychosis could Bakura be fighting? Some people considered being evil in and of itself to be a psychosis, but Bakura was always calm and cold in his malevolence, the perfect champion of Darkness. This…this was something else entirely.

Maybe.

A motorcycle tearing through a relatively rural neighborhood at high speed was a very unusual and unwelcome thing - not to mention illegal. That was the least of anyone's problems, though. As he and Marik sped down the street, easily avoiding the occasional car, Bakura's eyes swept their surroundings, a hawk searching for prey. Finally, he saw a man walking down the sidewalk - alone, not too bulky, and surrounded by open space for Marik to maneuver.

"Drive up to that man, as close as you can get without hitting him," Bakura said into Marik's ear, "and do _not_ stop or slow down no matter what happens."

Marik didn't question these instructions, didn't let himself think about it at all - he just did as he was told, worried for his partner. A tiny bit of thought might have been useful, though, because he wasn't prepared when they reached the man and Bakura reached out and grabbed hold of him, hooking one arm under his shoulder. The sudden change in weight and balance was drastic, and it took every bit of Marik's experience with motorcycles to not veer into a car or fall over. He managed, just barely, though it was very unwieldy.

"Get somewhere out of the way," Bakura told him, still carrying the man along with them by one arm. "A field, a forest, anywhere far from other people."

As Marik hurried to do as Bakura said, Bakura allowed himself to focus on the man's screams and pleas, which had been continuous since Bakura had grabbed him. "Stop! No! Please! Let me go! Help!", and on and on, sometimes wordless cries, sometimes full sentences. The panic in his voice was soothing to Bakura's frayed nerves, enough to sustain him for the rest of the ride.

His heart was pounding now, he couldn't stop it. Every fiber of his being was alive with the thrill of anticipation. He wanted it _now_. Damn it, what was taking the damn vehicle so long? He wanted it _now_!

Marik went off-road as soon as he could, glad for the rural setting. He wasn't sure how far away Bakura wanted him to get, so he just drove until he was told to stop. And when Bakura was satisfied at their distance, he did indeed tell Marik to stop.

Marik pulled to a halt as quickly as he could without injuring himself or Bakura, shutting off the engine as Bakura tumbled to the ground, still clinging to the random guy they'd abducted. Bakura lunged to his feet and dragged the man a few feet away from the motorcycle - an oddly considerate thing of him to do, given the circumstances.

He took out his knife, one arm around the man's shoulders from behind, and put it to his throat.

"Wh-? No! Please!" his victim screamed. "I have two kids-!"

"Good," Bakura hissed. "I'll be sure to drink their tears for dessert!"

He paused for a moment, just a moment, to let his words sink in, to let the man know exactly who and what was about to kill him. Then, he dug the blade deep into the man's neck and cut, nearly decapitating him. Gore spurted everywhere. There was one gurgled cry before what was left of the unlucky soul collapsed, and Bakura hurried to catch what was left of the arterial spurt in his hands. Blood splattered all over his hands and wrists, some droplets getting on his arms and sleeves.

"Ohh," he moaned, "that feels _good_."

Marik stared.

Bakura scooped up more of the sticky red substance and started rubbing it, spreading it thoroughly across his fingers and palms, as though he was literally washing his hands with blood. This went on for a few seconds before he sat back, his hands dropping to his sides, and tilted his head back, exhaling tremendously. Blood continued to seep out of the human's slashed throat, turning the grass an odd brown color before the red began to completely coat the green.

This was a new experience for Marik. Bloodshed hadn't really come up all that much in his previous walk in the Dark, and someone relishing it like this was utterly foreign. He realized, of course, that this was what had had Bakura so worked up - a craving, a literal _need_, for spilling blood. He wasn't sure how to feel. Most people would be horrified, and the part of him that knew that nagged at his mind; but conscious thought aside, something in his soul burned at the spectacle. He knew it was supposed to be wrong, but it felt so very _right_.

He walked over to the pale figure sitting in the grass, carefully, not completely sure that the dark wraith wouldn't jump to spill more blood if the opportunity presented itself. Bakura's eyes were closed, sublime bliss etched across his face. Marik had never seen him so peaceful, not even when he'd slept the previous night.

"Bakura?" he asked softly.

There was no response.

Marik tried again. "Bakura," he said, a bit more loudly.

Nothing.

No matter what Bakura might have thought, Marik was not stupid enough to use touch to try to rouse someone who was basking in the apparent afterglow of bloodshed. He kept his distance, but he did still try to get Bakura's attention.

"Bakura," he said loudly.

No response.

But, although Marik might not have been stupid enough to touch Bakura, he wasn't the smartest person, either, and he focused only on finding something that would get Bakura's attention. So the next thing he tried was, "Hey Fluffy!"

_That_ got a reaction. Bakura opened his eyes and whirled to glare at Marik, baring his teeth and giving a savage snarl, like a wild dog.

Marik hurriedly backed up a few steps. "Sorry!" he said quickly. "I just…I just wanted to get your attention, is all…"

Bakura glared at him for another few seconds, then sighed and turned back to the corpse lying in front of him. He reached out with his bloody hands and scooped up more, as much as he could at once, then threw it at his own face. It didn't splash like water, but the droplets of gore seemed to have a similar effect on him.

And that was where Marik drew the line.

"Bakura, stop it," he told the evil spirit.

Bakura glanced at him. "You ride your motorcycle, I wash off with blood," he said; "don't judge me."

"I'm not!" Marik exclaimed. "But you're making a mess!"

"Oh." Bakura rolled his eyes. "Right. Sorry. I forgot that you're as prissy as a schoolgirl." He scooped up more blood and brought it to his face, actually rubbing it onto his pale skin, licking the goop that got smeared on his lips, a slight moan of pleasure escaping him at the taste. "At least I did you the courtesy of not getting anything on your precious toy."

"But you will now, though," Marik pointed out. "And on _me_. Unless you plan to stay here or walk to wherever we go next." He shook his head. "Look at yourself! There's blood everywhere - on your hands, on your shirt, on your face, in your hair, and you keep rubbing in more! That's never going to wash out, you do know that, right?"

"I don't care," Bakura stated.

"I told you I was fine with you doing your thing as long as the mess you made didn't become my problem," Marik went on. "You just made it my problem."

"And what are you going to do about it?" Bakura sneered, shooting Marik another glare.

Marik recoiled. "Er…nothing," he stammered nervously, which seemed to satisfy the bloodthirsty soul. "It's just…we have to…work together, you know? I have to think about you, you have to think about me…and I'd just…like it if you didn't get blood on me or my things."

To his surprise, Bakura chuckled. "Okay, fine," he conceded, "I'll find some way to clean up. We _did_ sort of do this together, so it wouldn't be fair of me to ignore you now."

"We did, didn't we," Marik said softly. "We did do this together."

Bakura's face split into a wicked grin. "I told you I'd break you in," he teased nastily.

~o~

Bakura was used to washing blood off in rivers or streams, or waiting until it dried and letting it flake off. Unfortunately, neither of those things were options right now, as there was no water in the immediate vicinity, they couldn't stay put, and he couldn't leave Marik behind. It wasn't until now that Bakura actually realized just how messy he could be when he killed. With his options severely limited, Bakura eventually settled on wiping as much blood off of himself with his jacket as he could, then taking off his shirt and turning it inside-out with his jacket inside. It would be awkward going from here, and a smudge or two of blood would probably still get on Marik or his motorcycle, but it was the best compromise they could manage.

"What do you want to do with him?" Marik asked as Bakura started wiping himself clean, gesturing to the bloody corpse beside them. Marik was still finishing wrapping his head around what had just happened, and the presence of a dead body still felt strange; but really, the thing that disturbed Marik the most was that what had happened didn't disturb him at all.

Bakura glanced at the mess. "We'll leave him here," he told Marik. "To be honest, I _want_ to carry him back to his house and drop him right in front of those two children of his that he mentioned, but I have to think about how you'd fit in. He'll be found here before long - we weren't exactly subtle."

"Did you really need to do this _that_ badly?" Marik asked curiously. "I knew you liked this, but you were acting like you were…I don't know, about to die of starvation or something."

The dark spirit chuckled as he continued cleaning up. "Not too far from the truth," he commented. "Literally speaking, I could survive - I'm immortal, after all. But…it sort of _feels_ like dying. Have you ever wanted something so badly it physically hurt?"

"Freedom," Marik said softly. "Being trapped underground, especially after initiation, knowing I'd never be able to see the sun even though my sister got to go outside all the time…it hurt worse than the burns."

Bakura nodded. "Then you do understand," he said.

"I guess," Marik agreed slowly.

His partner sighed, his blue jacket covered in bloodstains and smears now, his skin about as clean as he could get it. He took off his shirt to wrap around his jacket, revealing ghastly white flesh, his golden talisman thumping against his bare chest.

"If you were a normal human, I'd say you were sick," Marik noted.

Bakura smirked, sealing the bloody jacket. "I don't need my heart to beat," he told Marik. "I don't really need to breathe, either, except to talk. Any body I take as host tends to turn pale from that. It helps preserve the flesh - like putting it in stasis. I need to let it live occasionally, but I try to keep it to a minimum."

"Do you miss being alive?" Marik asked.

"Not really," Bakura replied. "Mortality is such a burden - it's easier to not be bound by the needs of the living."

"Hm." Marik thought. "Do you…_remember_ what it feels like to be alive?" he finally asked.

This brought a frown to the pallid face. "Yes," Bakura said slowly after a minute, though his tone didn't suggest total confidence in his answer. "But I prefer this existence."

Marik nodded, deciding not to push him any further. "Well then, we should get going," he said, walking back over to his prized possession. "Try to keep from getting me or my motorcycle too bloody."

"I'll do my best," Bakura smirked, standing up.

"Does this happen often?" Marik suddenly asked, hesitating and turning back to his partner.

"I'm…not sure," Bakura replied. "I don't normally keep track. I guess it will depend on what we do next. Speaking of which," he added as he walked over, "I know I forced this on you rather abruptly; it would only be fair for you to decide what we do next."

"Oh," Marik said, blinking as usual. "Um…" He frowned, thinking. After Bakura's display, he found himself wanting to do something similar, something horrible. In fact, it was almost as if he wanted to one-up the ancient spirit. But he still wasn't comfortable with getting blood on himself…

His violet eyes lit up as he thought of something. Then, just as quickly, they dimmed, and he gave Bakura a wary look. "Do you have a problem with fire?" he asked him.

Another rare instance of Bakura blinking in response to something Marik said. No one else could be so random… "No, why?"

"I mean, I know what happened to you," Marik explained. "I just figured, maybe, stuff burning might…I don't know, be triggering for you or something."

"That's very considerate of you," Bakura said sincerely, impressed that Marik was even intelligent enough to know that that might happen. "But no. In fact, I rather like the idea of innocents burning now - after what happened to my village, it's only fair for other undeserving souls to experience the same fate. I don't normally do it - putting on a display really isn't my style…but for what it's worth, I _did_ enjoy the show we put on last night."

"Good," Marik said, a grin spreading across his face. "In that case, I have the perfect idea for what to do next."

"And I get the feeling I'm going to like it," Bakura said, returning the smile as Marik started up the engine.

~o~

Arson was a crime Marik had actually committed in the past - not as petty vandalism for fun, but he understood the principles at least. Sure, one of those times had been an accident, and not exactly by his own hand, but every bit of experience was useful, and he thought back on all of it as they rode. He didn't want to mess up in front of Bakura.

Bakura still had to hold onto him, shirtless now, and when his bare skin brushed against Marik's (mostly Marik's lower back, which his outfit didn't cover), it was the strangest sensation. He felt the way he looked: Cold and dead, like a corpse. Marik supposed no heartbeat or breathing also meaning no body heat made sense, but it was still an uncomfortable thing to feel such cold flesh against his own.

They couldn't go back to Domino City, that was a given; and they probably couldn't go back the way they came, either, not considering the way they'd made no attempt to hide their crime. That left a lot of area that Marik was unfamiliar with - he'd never come this way in the past. Whatever they did today, it would have to be completely random. That was probably nothing unusual to Bakura, but Marik had never done anything to anyone for no real reason before. Again, though, he didn't want his partner to think he was incompetent. What had he said? He existed to bring darkness and chaos to the world. Well, Marik would spread chaos with him. This was what it meant to be evil - not just retribution against people who deserve it, but to hurt indiscriminately.

Then, he thought back on Bakura's kill earlier, and realized he'd already started doing it. Of course, that had been with Bakura's specific directions. He had to step up now, had to keep pace with the immortal monster and do something wicked himself. But that didn't mean he wouldn't let Bakura help.

"Hey, thief king," he called over his shoulder.

"What do you need?" came the smug answer.

Marik was glad that his implicit meaning had gotten across. "While you're getting some new clothes, could you also get me a box of matches?" he asked.

"Easily," Bakura replied. "Do you need an accelerant as well?"

Marik blinked, surprised Bakura was so up-to-speed. "Er, yes," he said, "that would help." In truth, he'd had other ideas, and the matches had just been for a backup plan, but they might as well go all the way.

"I'll get whatever I find," Bakura told him.

"Thanks," Marik replied.

And they kept going, neither one of them finding it at all odd that they'd understood each other so well - it didn't even cross Bakura's mind, even though he usually thought of Marik as the most baffling enigma he'd ever seen.

They had to go a fair distance before Marik felt comfortable actually looking for what they were after. Their encounter with the police the previous night had served as a wake-up call, reminding him that he was going to be against the entire world and all of society from now on. They weren't exactly inconspicuous either, with Bakura shirtless and pale as death, Marik unusually tan with light hair, and both of them wearing a suspicious amount of gold (no matter that none of their golden possessions were actually things they'd stolen). In fact, Marik didn't slow down until it started to get dark.

"I like your thinking," Bakura said in his ear as he did so.

Marik smiled and didn't reply. Again, Bakura understood exactly what he was doing. Marik had never met anyone who had been on the same page as him before, who understood how he thought because they thought a similar way. It was an oddly pleasant feeling, being understood - like a warm bubble in his chest, making him lighter as loneliness that he hadn't even noticed before lifted slightly. Strange, how someone so cold could make him feel warm…

He blinked, refocusing on the present. Shops. They needed things, had to find places Bakura could steal from. This wasn't a city - there was a border between residential and industrial areas, and they needed to be out of the residential places for now. _Focus,_ he told himself.

He slowed to a reasonable speed, then went to a more suitable area. There was no real point in trying not to draw attention to them now, but he needed to make sure they found what Bakura looked for, something he was depending on Bakura to guide him to. Bakura didn't say anything, though, so eventually Marik settled for a generic strip mall area and stopped in a parking lot.

Marik looked at the ground as he shut off the engine. "It's been a long time since I've actually been in a parking lot," he mused.

Bakura looked around uneasily, still half-dressed, his bloody clothes bundled in his arms. Being the evening, there weren't exactly crowds of people around, but there were a handful, and of those, one or two _were_ looking at them already. "Marik, could you help me out?" he asked.

"Sure," Marik replied, turning to him. "What can I do?"

"The Rod," Bakura said, gesturing to the ancient tool in Marik's belt. "Can it make people ignore us?"

"Why would you need magic for that, your highness?" Marik teased.

Bakura scowled. "Normally, I wouldn't," he answered, "but I'm also normally not quite so conspicuous when I go out in the first place."

"Well, don't blame me for that," Marik said, pulling out the Millennium Rod. "And honestly, I've never done a generic mind control like what you're asking - it's usually all or nothing."

Unconsciously, Bakura raised his hand to the Millennium Ring. "Perhaps we could combine the powers of our Items," he thought out loud.

Marik blinked. "Can we?"

"I don't know," Bakura mused. "I've never tried…I don't think anyone has." He glanced around again; people were actually stopping to stare at them now. "Either way, now would be as good a time to try as any."

Marik looked around and saw what Bakura saw. "Now, then?"

"Now," Bakura said, nodding.

They called upon the power of their Millennium Items. They weren't sure what they were doing, but magic can sometimes take on a life of its own. The glows from the Rod and Ring met, and slowly, everyone who was staring at them turned away and continued whatever they were doing at a trancelike pace.

"Let's move," Bakura muttered. "I don't like having to do this. It's cheating."

~o~

Bakura was quick and efficient in everything he did, so they only took a few minutes off the road to get supplies. His bloodstained clothes went in a dumpster (much to Ryou's displeasure), and he had a new shirt, matches, and a small bottle of gasoline almost before Marik could even blink. It was impressive, really, and all the more so for how subtle it was. Marik enjoyed making a show, but he couldn't help appreciating Bakura's silence, like a shadow flitting across the moon.

It was still truly night by the time they were done, though, and Marik started to feel pressured to get on with whatever he was going to do - to prove himself to the evil spirit who was his partner. _People or property?_ he thought, looking at what he had. _That's the question. It wouldn't be easy to do both at once this late. Bakura would go for killing, but…we've done that today already. I don't want to just copy him…_

They were on the road again soon, more slowly than normal, Marik looking around and thinking. Fire. What screamed fire? Something peaceful, someplace unexpected - shock value had to be considered, always. It would probably be the most he could do…

Ultimately, the roulette wheel stopped on when Marik didn't feel comfortable waiting anymore. He pulled over abruptly, not really caring what they stopped at. As it turned out, what they stopped at was a house whose occupants just so happened to be away at the moment.

"Nice," Bakura murmured as Marik turned off the engine and set the kickstand. "Will we wait and watch how they react?"

"If you want to," Marik said, smiling.

"I'd love to," Bakura purred.

"Then we will," Marik declared. "But first, let me work."

"Do you want any help breaking and entering?" Bakura asked as Marik started walking towards the building.

He glanced back. "I'm just going to kick the door down," he told Bakura. "It's not like I have to worry about being subtle."

"True," Bakura admitted, crossing his arms.

_He'd be subtle,_ Marik thought as he broke in. _It wouldn't matter whether he had to, he just would be. He's like a shadow. But I'm not._

As he worked, Marik found himself considering factors he hadn't even known he knew about before then. He quickly scouted through the house, looking for the best spot to set alight. Ideally, the house would fuel most of the fire itself - the best thing would be for him to start a fire without using anything he brought in himself, but he also kind of wanted to show off. He would never be subtle like his partner; the next-best thing was to be as flashy as possible.

In fact, why just make a fire? Fire_works_ were much more entertaining.

With that thought, Marik knew exactly what he wanted to do. His lips curled into a smirk as he sought out what he needed, then began laying out the foundation. It was closer to the back of the house, so, halfway through, he actually stopped and went outside to tell Bakura to take the motorcycle and go around to the back.

Bakura just managed to get the machine to the outer edge of the backyard as Marik came out the back door, the small bottle Bakura had stolen for him open and dumping its contents along the floor and the cement of the back patio as he walked.

"What are you doing?" Bakura asked.

Marik smirked at him but didn't answer, and Bakura felt an odd sensation of excitement stir in his chest. He _wanted_ to see what Marik was about to do, it went beyond curiosity now.

The last of the bottle's contents dropped onto the ground, and Marik tossed the empty container aside and took out the box of matches. He gave Bakura one last wicked smirk before lighting a match and dropping it into the puddle he'd made, then running away to Bakura's side. The liquid burst into flame, and followed the trail into the house.

Bakura glanced at Marik uncertainly. Marik watched the house. "Wait for it," he said under his breath.

The instruction was just in time, for Bakura barely managed to turn back to the house again when something inside it quite dramatically exploded. Fire plumed in the building, visible through the windows, and everything shook. Bakura sent a questioning glance at Marik.

"Gas tank," Marik said by way of explanation.

Bakura's eyes widened, turning back again. The fire grew quite quickly from the explosion, and soon, the whole building was engulfed in flames. None of the possessions of any of the people who lived inside would escape severe damage.

"All those precious possessions," Bakura mused out loud. "Everything these people have spent their lives hoarding and placing so much importance on…and you've just erased all of it."

Marik chuckled. "Yep."

Bakura chuckled, too, enjoying the spectacle. He didn't really even need to see the reactions the inhabitants would have - this fire was plenty show enough.

Marik and Bakura turned to smile at each other, bathed in the glow of the raging inferno, enjoying each other's enjoyment of the moment. Tiny flames flickered in Marik's violet eyes - in this light, the purple was a deeper color, fading even to black, which made Bakura think of the Shadow Realm, former home to half his soul. Shadows and fire as one…a spark at the center of unfathomable Darkness, but not of Light. It was almost like a reflection of the two of them - dark and deadly. Those tiny dancing embers began to fill Bakura's mind, as he lost himself in the beautiful shadows of Marik's eyes…

…Wait, what?

Bakura tore his eyes away and shook himself. Since when did he think like that? There was no beauty in Darkness, no glory in death, no respect in evil. Those who walked in the shadows had no thought for any but themselves - the strong were foes, the weak were prey, that was all there was! What sort of pathetic wretch did he have to be to think Marik's eyes were beautiful…?

In the few moments it took Bakura to get himself together, he didn't notice that Marik didn't question his sudden gesture. In fact, Marik didn't even notice at all, as he himself was trying to take his mind off the way Bakura's evil brown eyes had taken on a rich golden gleam in the firelight, like the flames of the Winged Dragon of Ra…

"Well done," Bakura finally said. "I didn't take you for a pyromaniac, but there's something entertaining about your style."

"Thanks," Marik replied. "…What's a pyromaniac?"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Someone who's obsessed with fire," he replied.

"Oh." Marik considered this. "Is there a word for a person who's obsessed with knives?" he asked Bakura. "Because I wouldn't have taken you for one of those, but you are."

Bakura chuckled. "Fair enough," he conceded.

They stared at the fire for a few moments longer. Then, Marik turned; there wasn't much else left to see, except for the show that was still waiting to come, and that would be around the front. Bakura followed suit.

"So what happens now?" Marik asked him as they got ready to move. "Are we going to take turns, plan our next move together, what?"

"I suppose that depends on which of us is the next to get an idea," Bakura replied as they got on the motorcycle.

For some reason, that made Marik smile. They were free to go wherever the shadows led them.


	13. Burn

Ishizu decided to stay in Domino City for the time being. They weren't sure where Marik and Bakura had gone - the police had been quite spectacularly thwarted when they'd tried to corner them in Ryou's home, which hadn't been unexpected - but that they might be nearby was all Ishizu could hope. She wasn't entirely sure what she was hoping for, exactly…Seeing Marik standing against her would further break her already-shattered heart, she knew that. But she couldn't just walk away, either. He was her younger brother. She had a responsibility to look after him.

She called Odion the next day to tell him exactly what had been going on - the whole story, including what had brought her there.

"I thought, if I brought the Millennium Puzzle here, Yugi could put it back together and use it to do something about all this…but he couldn't," she finished. "It doesn't want him anymore."

There was silence over the line in response to all this. Ishizu gave her older brother a good few minutes - without seeing his face, it was even harder to tell whether he was thinking or simply had nothing to say.

"Have you had any luck finding the Millennium Necklace?" she asked at last.

"No," Odion replied. "There's been no trace of it."

Ishizu let out a breath and sat down on her hotel bed. "I'm going to stay here until…I don't know. I'll keep you posted. Call me if the Necklace turns up, won't you?"

"I will," Odion promised. He paused, then added, "Don't forget to look after yourself, sister. If Master Marik finds out you're there, he or the spirit of the Millennium Ring might come after you."

"He wouldn't hurt me," Ishizu protested with more confidence than she actually felt.

Odion was silent in response to this for a few moments. Then he repeated, "Take care of yourself," and hung up.

Ishizu let her hands drop to her sides, her head hanging. How had everything gone so horribly wrong? And always, always with her brother…why couldn't the shadows leave him be? Why couldn't he leave them? She wanted to believe that it didn't have to be this way, that this wasn't who Marik absolutely was, but the doubt burning at the back of her mind grew stronger every day.

~X~

Yugi found himself staying up late at night as the days passed, tinkering with the Millennium Puzzle, just as Ishizu had before. The situation he and his friends had found themselves thrown into was extreme, and all of their respective colleges and jobs had given them leave, be it for physical or mental health reasons, so at least they had each other to hold onto, even after the holiday week passed, though it wasn't worth much this time. With his friends nearby, like old times, Yugi felt all the more like he had to do something. He had always been the one who had to do something…

The Puzzle still rejected him, but with nothing else at his disposal, Yugi couldn't stop trying. He'd put it together not once, but twice - and the second time, he'd done it in minutes. That second time…it had been urgent, a raging inferno building around him…he'd been dizzy from the heat, but focused on putting the pieces back together, knowing it was more important than anything, probably even more important than his own life. And yet now, in his home, with only a vague and distant threat to worry about, the pieces simply wouldn't come together for him. Why was it rejecting him now? Had it really just been because of Atemu that he'd ever been chosen to wield the Item in the first place?

Ten days and nights he'd been arguing with the ancient golden artifact. Ten! And no two pieces had come together in his hands yet. It was hopeless, but Yugi had learned - both from his friends, and from Atemu - to never, ever give up, so he carried on.

That particular night, he was especially frustrated. "Come on!" he shouted at the chunks of gold scattered before him. "Don't you get it? I _need_ you!"

The Puzzle remained as it was.

"I need you…" Yugi repeated softly, and he wasn't sure if he was talking about the magic of the artifact itself, or the dear friend who had once lived in it - the dear friend he was now the spitting image of, though his soul was so very different.

If any of the gods heard him, there was no sign.

He sighed and kept trying to put the Puzzle together. It hadn't been so difficult before…how had he done it? The pieces had just sort of…put themselves together, almost without his help - like it had been using his fingers for him. He hadn't even needed to think in the heat of the fire that surrounded him. Joey and Tristan had told him that when they'd found him, he had clung to the finished Puzzle mindlessly, even as the fire closed in. He almost remembered that heat…the smoke that choked him, the way his vision had shimmered in the blaze. He'd felt so…tired…the crackling of flames in his ears, drowning out his thoughts, his head spinning…only the Puzzle hanging in front of him had held him up. He'd needed to finish it.

Around and around his mind went, as he found himself reliving that day. The heat…the smoke…the flames…wooden beams and boards crashing down around him as the fire ate away at the supports…the Puzzle, gold gleaming in the firelight, his only focus…the pieces…why weren't the pieces coming together? It was like that day all over again, except that the pieces wouldn't come together for him. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping down his face, remembering the heat…

A drop of sweat fell into one of Yugi's hyper-focused eyes, shocking him out of his trance. But even as he shook himself and tried to bring himself back to the present, the memory of the fire wouldn't go away. Smoke was choking him, the air going hazy from a temperature far too high, the sound of flames crackling…

The flames…

It wasn't a memory.

The shop was on fire!

All at once, Yugi registered what was going on around him. He could taste the smoke in the air, and the heat was stifling, but there was no fire here yet - he could hear it downstairs, though, raging. Of course - it was a card shop, there was paper everywhere. He leapt up from his seat, about to flee, when again, the Puzzle caught his eye. It wouldn't come together for him now, but he wasn't going to leave it.

Quickly, Yugi swept the chunks of gold into the little box Ishizu had given him. After a split-second's thought, he grabbed his deck and tossed that in with the pieces - it might not be a weapon against evil anymore, but he'd still put his heart into that set of cards, gone through hell and back with them multiple times.

He shut the box and opened the door to his room, only to be greeted by flames roaring up the stairs towards him. How could there be this much fire? It wasn't like the shop had been a hazard - his grandpa had been very careful about that…

…Grandpa. Where was he?

"Grandpa!" he shouted, barely able to hear himself over the roar of the inferno. He charged down the steps, one arm clutching the box to his chest, the other trying to press his sleeve against his mouth to filter out some of the smoke. The heat was intense, unbearable - he felt like his flesh was about to melt - but he had to find his grandpa and get out, and there was no other exit anyway.

Tongues of flame licked at his clothes and skin as he charged through what was left of the ground floor of the shop. It hadn't quite been closing time yet, so his grandpa should have been either behind the counter or somewhere else in the main shop. Yugi tried the counter first - it was closest to the door he came out of - and found…

…a nightmare.

Yugi's grandfather lay unmoving on the floor, fire slowly spreading across his clothes. His eyes were open, but glazed, reflections of the fire dancing mockingly in them as the only life they held.

"Grandpa!" Yugi screamed, lunging down to grab onto the lifeless remains of his closest family. He fastened his free hand around one of his grandfather's ankles with an iron grip and mindlessly dragged him toward the door. Around them, shelves collapsed, the cards on display having already turned to wafers of ash in the air.

The doors burst open, fire and smoke belching out into the night, and Yugi dragged his grandfather away from the burning building. He was smudged with soot, and the fresh night air made him cough up the smoke he'd inhaled. Once they were a safe distance away, he fell to his hands and knees, coughing, his eyes watering, trying to recover from the effects of the heat and smog.

When he could breathe again, he turned around, still on his hands and knees, to look at his grandfather. He quickly patted out the flames on the old man's clothes, but there was no response.

"Grandpa!" Yugi screamed mindlessly, shaking the charred husk. "Grandpa! _Grandpa_!" It was just like how it had been when Pegasus had taken his grandpa's soul to force him to enter in Duelist Kingdom. But this time, the soul hadn't been ripped away from a still-breathing body. No…this time, the soul was gone, and it wasn't coming back.

As this slowly sank in, Yugi let go of the dead man and forced his arms to prop himself up, squeezing his eyes shut as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Grandpa…" he whimpered.

"Oh, boo hoo," said a cold, sarcastic voice. "One particularly old member of your family burned alive. How very tragic. I thought you said you weren't weak!"

Yugi forced his eyes opened and turned to the source of the sound.

"He was ancient!" the biting voice went on. "For all you know, he was already dead before the fire started! Don't you _dare_ cry, you pathetic child. You think this hurts? Imagine _everyone_ burning in front of your eyes - not even just your family or friends, everyone whose faces you'd ever seen! _That_ is agony, human. This? This is nothing!"

Focusing his eyes through his tears, Yugi finally managed to make out a pale figure standing in the shadows as it stepped towards him, revealing itself in the firelight.

"Bakura!" he gasped. "_You_ did this?!"

"Oh, this wasn't _me_," Bakura said with a wicked smile. "Not my style. No…you have my partner to thank for this one."

And from behind him came another figure, equally familiar. "Hello, Yugi," Marik said, no less evilly than Bakura. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

"Marik!" Yugi exclaimed. "Wh…Why?"

Marik shrugged. "Apparently, I'm a pyromaniac," he said nonchalantly. "A bit ironic, isn't it? But fire is just so beautiful - unstoppable and deadly as it cleanses everything it touches." He turned to gaze admiringly at the card shop as it burned to the ground.

"Ooh, very poetic," Bakura remarked, turning to his companion.

"You think?" Marik asked teasingly, giving his ghostly partner an odd smile.

Bakura smiled back. "Absolutely," he replied. "You know, this actually makes you officially a murderer."

"It does, doesn't it?" Marik said brightly. "Lovely!"

It was as if they'd forgotten Yugi was even there.

"Hey!" Yugi shouted angrily, lunging at them. "Don't look away from-!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Bakura chided, glancing at the figure charging towards him, and Yugi saw a gleam at the evil spirit's chest as an invisible wall of force slammed into him, knocking him away. He tumbled across the ground a short distance, just losing his grip on the precious box he held. He reached for it as it slowly rolled out of his reach.

"Hello," Bakura said, "what's this?" He walked over to where the box sat on the pavement.

"No!" Yugi exclaimed, and he tried to lunge for it - but he barely managed to lift his hand before a sharp spike made of pure gold drove through the back of his palm and pinned him to the ground.

Yugi screamed in agony. Bakura paused in what he was doing, closing his eyes and taking a moment to enjoy the sound.

Marik grinned up from where he crouched, impaling the broken young man. "That one was for you, partner," he told Bakura.

Bakura smiled back. "Much obliged," he said. "Now then, let's see what we have here…" He reached down and picked up the little box as Yugi looked on helplessly, trying to fight the pain in his staked hand. The lid of the box came off. "Well well," the ancient evil spirit said mockingly, "what do we have here?" He lifted a golden object out of the little package - a small, misshapen plate marked with the Eye of Wdjat. "Is this what I think it is?"

"The Millennium Puzzle?" Marik exclaimed. He glared at Yugi. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

Yugi glared at him.

"Did my sister bring that to you?" Marik pressed, slightly twisting the metal spike in Yugi's flesh. "Is she here?"

An anguished yet defiant growl was the only answer he needed.

"A better question is, why is it all in pieces?" Bakura asked, drawing Yugi's attention again. "Did it break when you dropped it?…No? Then why haven't you put it together?"

Yugi could only glare, trying to telegraph as much hatred as he could through his eyes.

But Bakura chuckled. "Oh, I see," he taunted. "It doesn't want you anymore, does it? Now that you've made the ever-so-great Pharaoh Atemu whole, the force of Light doesn't need you. You're not the chosen one anymore, so it won't come together for you. How unfortunate…" He gave a tremendous, evil laugh.

Trying to think through the pain that clouded his mind, Yugi looked between Marik and Bakura. There was a light in Marik's eyes that wasn't just from the fire as he stared up at his ancient companion; Bakura was clearly relishing everything that was happening, with no real regard for either of them.

Bakura finished his laugh, then dropped the Puzzle piece back into the box. "And oh, what's this?" he asked mockingly, reaching in and pulling out Yugi's deck. "A deck of useless cards, how very amusing."

"Put that down!" Yugi growled without thinking.

Bakura raised one eyebrow at his downed foe, evil brown eyes dancing with laughter. "Oh, so you still treasure this?" he asked, holding up the stack of cards. "It won't do you any good anymore, but it still means something to you…more of that 'Heart of the Cards' foolishness? You _do_ know that without the help of a Millennium Item, these are really just worthless pieces of paper, don't you? In fact…" Bakura turned around and started walking towards the still-burning building. "…let me prove it to you."

"Wait! _No_!" Yugi screamed as Bakura lifted the cards in his hand and held them out over the raging fire. In a panic, he actually forgot the situation with his hand and wrenched it out of Marik's impalement. Freed, he lunged for Bakura, just as the evil spirit tossed the stack of cards into the flames.

"_NO_!" Yugi dove into the fire as Bakura laughed, mindlessly trying to save his deck. It was just like when Weevil Underwood had thrown his Exodia cards over the side of the ship to Duelist Kingdom, but this time there was no Joey to dive in after them. After all he'd been through with those cards, they were almost like family to him now - he couldn't lose them too.

Marik walked up beside Bakura, and they both enjoyed a good, long laugh at Yugi as he desperately tried to save his cards. They only stopped when the wail of sirens began to fill the air.

"Ah," Bakura said, "here comes the cavalry. Well, it's time for us to go." He turned and walked towards Marik's motorcycle. Marik, however, paused.

"Yugi," he said seriously, his violet eyes intense as he looked down at the frantic young man.

Yugi looked up and met his gaze, the fire momentarily forgotten.

"If she's still around, tell my sister to go home," Marik told him. "I don't want to run into her, and she…" He raised the weaponized half of Millennium Rod, which was still in two pieces. "…doesn't want to run into me. Tell her to take my word for it." And he turned and left. Yugi watched as the two evil men got on a motorcycle, an engine roared…and they were gone.

By then, the cards Yugi hadn't managed to grab were beyond saving, and he stumbled back out of the way of the flames as fire trucks finally approached. Bakura had left the box holding the Millennium Puzzle behind, and Yugi picked it up as he passed it, then sat down next to the remains of his grandfather and watched his home burn.

Everything was gone. His family, his house…all he had left was a useless ancient Puzzle and a charred Kuriboh card clenched in one hand. He waited to wake up from this nightmare, to find that none of it was real.

But real it was, and he never woke.


	14. Falling

"Alright, admit it," Marik said over his shoulder. "Who's the better evil mastermind?"

"Your plan may have succeeded where mine failed, but that does not make you better," Bakura bantered, though he was grinning.

Marik didn't argue as they left Domino City. Instead of driving away, or even going to their old campsite, however, he turned as soon as possible once he was outside the city limits, and went straight to the top of the closest hill.

He stopped, put the kickstand down, and dismounted. Bakura followed suit. Above Domino City, they could just make out a dark cloud of smoke that was starting to rise into the night sky. They stood side-by-side, admiring what little they could see, remembering and imagining the rest.

"Thank you, for tonight," Bakura said after a minute.

Marik glanced at his partner. "You really enjoyed it that much?" he asked, surprised.

Bakura gave him a truly evil grin. "To be completely honest with you, it might be fair to say that this is the happiest day of my existence so far," he told Marik.

"Wow," Marik commented. "Over three thousand years, and burning down a card shop is the happiest time of all?"

Laughter escaped Bakura's chest as he pondered that statement. "It sounds rather silly when you put it that way," he admitted. "But really…seeing that pathetic little champion of Light broken down all the way, tortured to within an inch of his sanity, just as we were…if there's one thing in all the millennia I spend walking this earth that I want to remember, it's that."

"It _is_ only fair, isn't it?" Marik agreed. "I wonder if he'll stop being so goody-goody now?"

"Probably not," Bakura growled. "He's too pure for that. If anything, he'll probably try all the harder to champion the force of Light from now on." His smile didn't waver. "But it was worth it."

Marik nodded in agreement. "And stabbing his hand was fun," he added.

"Yes, that was beautiful," Bakura said, turning to look Marik in the eye. "I owe you another thanks for that alone." He chuckled. "Tonight has been _so_ much fun…I could kiss you."

The words hung awkwardly in the air for a few seconds as both of them blinked.

"Er, not that I would," Bakura added hastily. "I'm just saying…"

"Right," Marik nodded.

They both turned back to look at the smog that was well within sight now, enjoying everything about who they were and what they'd done. They didn't get to bask in their work like this very often - even Marik's other works of arson lately had been slash-and-burn style. It was like that when things were impersonal…but what they'd done tonight had been anything but.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Marik asked eventually.

"Well, I can't top your performance tonight, so we should stop competing," Bakura said teasingly.

Marik blinked and turned to his partner. "You knew?"

"Knew what?" Bakura asked, his eyes dancing with merriment in the moonlight. "That you've been trying to impress me by outdoing me? Yes. You weren't very subtle about it."

"I'm not good at being subtle about things, not like you," Marik grumbled.

"No, you're not," Bakura agreed. "You wear it well, though. And you don't have to worry about impressing me; tonight has been delightful. You've nothing more to prove."

"Thanks," Marik said, unsure how else to respond. "So…what are we going to do now?"

"Hmm…" Bakura looked back at the smoke that was still filling the sky and thought. "Well, we can carry on as we have, I suppose."

Marik sighed. "Pretending tonight didn't happen wouldn't feel right," he said. "I feel like we need to do something different now, if only to celebrate."

"Agreed," Bakura concurred, almost surprised to hear that Marik felt exactly the same way he did. "But what does that mean?"

"I guess…we could take that road trip," Marik suggested, almost shyly. "You know, just go in one direction and do what we want whenever we want? Maybe we'll even find someplace we'll want to stay."

"Can you handle an indefinitely long road trip?" Bakura challenged. "You'll be giving up a lot of luxuries."

"I can make do," Marik told the pale creature, shrugging.

Bakura made a sound that suggested doubt, but he didn't argue - tonight wasn't a time for fighting with each other, it was too precious. They both looked up at the sky over Domino City again. The plume of smoke was still rising, fading at the edges now - maybe it had been put out, or simply burned out. Either way, the mark was still there.

A sensation of an unusual temperature got both Marik and Bakura's attention at the same time. They looked down, and were both equally surprised to see that they were holding hands, their fingers interlaced - Marik, warm and alive, and Bakura, cold and dead.

They stared at the sight, the fire and the future momentarily forgotten. Then they glanced at each other, the same bewilderment mirrored in each other's eyes. Should we let go? they both wondered at the same time. Neither of them wanted to, but both were concerned what the other thought - Marik worried that Bakura would be angry, and Bakura worried that Marik might think him soft. When neither of them made any objections known, they decided to just let it be, and they turned back to the smoky sky as one.

~X~

Nothing of the card shop was left except ashes - everything had been obliterated. The police were quick to determine that it was the work of arson, but Yugi had already known that, and it didn't help.

Yugi himself, apart from the stab wound in his hand, had suffered multiple first- and second-degree burns that he hadn't even noticed until the medics looked him over. He let them do their job, but it was like he was in a trance. They determined that he didn't need to go to the hospital, and he found himself just hovering around the scene like a ghost. Everything felt surreal, and wrong…

When Yugi's friends heard about the fire later the next morning, they all dropped whatever they were doing to join Yugi, knowing he needed them. When they gathered, Yugi told them the worse news.

"No way…" Joey breathed, shocked. "I can't believe it…the old man…"

"Yugi," Tea managed. "I'm so sorry…"

Tristan, who had only just gotten out of the hospital, said nothing.

"I couldn't…I didn't even notice the fire until…" Yugi tried to tell them through tears that had somehow replenished themselves. "If I'd noticed sooner…"

"Yug, don't blame yourself for this," Joey said sternly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

But Yugi shook his head. "You don't understand," he told them. "Marik did this."

This elicited a round of surprised gasps from all three.

"Are you sure?" Joey exclaimed.

Yugi glared at him. "He was waiting for me outside so he could gloat," he growled. "Him _and_ Bakura. Apparently, he has a thing for fire now."

"Oh man…" said Tristan.

"Who's gonna tell Ishizu?" Joey asked.

Yugi didn't respond, didn't care. He felt like he should have run out of tears by now, but they kept pouring out of his eyes. _Helpless_. He was so helpless…so powerless…

"Yugi…" Not knowing what else to do, Tea stepped forward and hugged her friend. She was still a bit taller than him, but Yugi still managed to break down on her shoulder and cry openly as she held him tightly. Tristan and Joey stood back, respectfully silent.

They stayed like that for a while - none of them knew how long. Then, someone approached, without a word. They turned, Yugi lifting his face from Tea's shoulder, and saw Ishizu standing in front of them, her eyes wide and sad.

"I heard about the fire," she said softly. She turned her gaze to each of them, one at a time, then added, "This wasn't an accident, was it."

"No," Yugi choked.

"No," Joey said bluntly, "it was your crazy brother."

"Joey!" Tea chided.

Ishizu gasped. "Marik? Are you sure _he_ did-?"

"Yes," Yugi said, struggling to get ahold of himself. "Yes, it was him. He told me so."

"He was _here_…?" Ishizu breathed.

Yugi looked down and clenched his fists, trying to get himself together. He had to tell Ishizu exactly what had happened the previous night - she needed to hear all of it, he knew.

"What, are you jealous he didn't visit you?" Joey sneered.

"Joey!" This time it was both Tea and Tristan who exclaimed at their friend's brashness.

Joey stepped forward. "Listen, lady," he told the beautiful Egyptian maiden, "you need to realize there's nothing left for you. Your brother's gone psycho, and you need to accept it."

Every word was another tiny dagger in Ishizu's broken heart.

"I know you wanna believe differently," Joey went on, his tone softening a bit. "If I found out my little sister had started strangling people for kicks, I'd wanna believe differently, too. But at a certain point, you gotta accept the truth."

Ishizu held back her tears and forced herself to meet Joey's eyes. "Joey, I've met your sister," she said softly. "She's the sweetest, most gentle person I've ever met."

The stern, brown eyes went soft.

"If you found out that she'd started strangling people for fun, even if you accepted it was true, wouldn't you want to believe that you could talk sense into her?" Ishizu asked. "Wouldn't you hold onto the hope that the sweet, kind person you knew was still in there, and that you could bring her back if only you had a chance to talk to her?"

Joey swallowed. "Well…yeah," he admitted. "But it's not the same. Marik's been pullin' these stunts for a long time! He killed your father when he was ten years old!"

"That wasn't his fault!" Ishizu cried. "He wasn't himself! And our father…well, may he rest in peace, but he deserved it! If he'd just let Odion take on the family duty rather than forcing it on Marik, none of this would have happened!" The admission that had been nagging at her for so long ripped its way out of her, and she couldn't hold her tears back anymore; a drop of liquid slid down her face.

Joey, Tristan, and Tea stared at her.

"Before initiation, Marik was a good person," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I saw him…He was a sweet, gentle boy, full of goodness and laughter. I have to believe that that person is still in there somewhere."

"It doesn't matter now."

Everyone turned in surprise as Yugi spoke up. His maroon eyes no longer leaked, and he met all of their gazes as strongly as he could, especially Ishizu. "You need to know what happened last night," he told her. "You need to know everything. I owe it to you to tell you."

And he took a breath, then began to tell her.

~X~

On the other side of the world, Odion pursued the Millennium Necklace doggedly. He had one duty, and he was determined to perform it. Without any leads at all, it was difficult, but he refused to focus on anything else.

Then, late one night, a man came in. He seemed nervous, even panicked, and Odion's eyes narrowed at the sight.

The man came right up to him. "Are you the one looking for those gold things they announced on the news?" he asked.

"My name is Odion Ishtar," Odion said. "Yes, some artifacts belonging to my family were pawned off recently. Most have been returned…"

"Except the necklace, right?" the man said, still oddly anxious.

Odion nodded.

The man pulled the Millennium Necklace out of his pocket and held it out. "Take it," he said quickly. "Please, take it."

Odion stared at the man for a while before reaching out and accepting the golden amulet.

"I'm sorry I ever bought it," the man said. "You don't have to worry about reimbursing me or anything - just keep it away from me."

"What happened?" Odion asked.

"Er, uh, well…" The man glanced around, as though afraid he was being watched. "It's going to sound crazy…"

"Tell me what happened," Odion said in a tone that left no room for argument.

The man flinched. "Uh, o-okay," he stammered. "You see, I, uh, I was out one day, just looking around, and I saw that necklace for sale. It reminded me of a friend of mine - she loves this stuff - and even though I wasn't going to see her for a while, I just, I had to get it for her, you know?"

Odion said nothing.

"A-Anyway," the man went on after a moment, "this morning, I got a call from my friend telling me she was in town, and I asked if I could see her because I had something for her. She said yes, so I went to get that…and as soon as I picked it up, I swear, it started glowing, like the sun was shining directly on it but there wasn't any sunlight. I thought it was weird but I tried to ignore it…and then I suddenly got this…I don't know, it was like a vision or something - I saw my friend fall down a set of stairs, then slam into the trim of the wall at the bottom with her head, and her neck twisted at an odd angle…" He shuddered. "I didn't know what to make of it, but I went to go see her, trying to act like nothing happened, right? And when I got there…" He stopped, visibly shaking now.

"She was dead," Odion finished for him, "exactly as she was in the vision."

"Yeah." The man hugged himself. "I'm telling you, man, that thing's cursed."

Odion said nothing.

"Y-You don't believe me!" the man exclaimed. "Look, I'm telling you, I'm not crazy-!"

"I believe you," Odion told him. "I'm sorry about your friend. Please, tell no one of what happened to you."

The man's eyes widened. "You know," he breathed. "You know about this thing."

"The necklace shows visions of the past and the future," Odion told him. "It does not cause disaster, only tells of it." As he said this, a bit of doubt nagged at his mind, but he didn't show it. "Thank you for returning it. Again, I ask that you please not tell anyone about this."

"Whatever you say, man," the guy said, and he turned and ran out.

Odion looked down at the golden necklace in his hand. Here it was, the last of the Millennium Items - all of them were now accounted for, five of them secure. Unfortunately, they hadn't found it in time to prevent misfortune - surely, the Necklace hadn't _caused_ the woman's death, but the fact that it predicted it for an unsuspecting innocent was exactly what they'd been trying to prevent from happening. People panicked when magic popped up without warning. That was one of the reasons the Millennium Items were so dangerous.

But they were all safely in competent hands now - even if some of those hands were wicked. He went to store the Necklace with the others, wondering as he did so what would happen next. Would Ishizu want him to join her in Domino City? Or would she rather he stayed here? He had an uneasy feeling, but decided to wait to talk to her before making any decisions or assumptions.

~X~

Ishizu wasn't sure how she managed to stay standing as Yugi finished his tale with the threat her brother had made against her.

She shook her head, almost manically. "He wouldn't…hurt me…" she whispered.

"I'm not so sure," Yugi said. "I don't think he _wants_ to hurt you, but if he runs into you, he might."

Yugi's friends all stared at him, wide-eyed. His detailed recount of the previous night had driven a lot of things home. It seemed unbelievable that what had once been something like a fair fight had gone so awry.

Tea didn't want to, but… "I've heard things on the news lately," she said softly. "Reports of arson in the area over the past week or so…"

"I've heard that too," Joey agreed, nodding. "I didn't think it had to do with this, but…"

"I saw other stuff in the news while I was in the hospital, about random murders happening around here, too," Tristan spoke up. "People with their throats slashed, eyewitnesses only being able to say there were two men on a motorcycle who grabbed people off the streets seemingly at random. You said Marik and Bakura had a motorcycle, Yugi?"

Yugi nodded gravely. "Yes," he said, "and I think I know who's behind those murders." He gestured meaningfully to the wounded arm of his that had almost healed.

Joey shook his head. "This is crazy. How did those two freaks end up doing stuff like this?"

It was all Ishizu could do not to fall to her knees as her heart broke more and more again and again with every word the four friends spoke. Never, in her wildest nightmares, had she dreamed things would ever go this far.

~X~

The morning air was sweet as Marik rode his motorcycle aimlessly, his spirits higher than they'd ever been before. It didn't matter that neither he nor Bakura would be able to top what they'd pulled off last night; they could now leave Domino City behind without regret. Not that they'd never come back, but they'd gotten what they wanted out of the place for now. And now, there was no direction, they were completely cut loose. Fitting, really - spreading chaos in a chaotic manner.

Bakura was less elated, though he too rode the high from the fun last night. In truth, it had been a very long time since he'd acted without a specific goal to work towards - so long, he actually couldn't remember the last time it had been that way. He knew his purpose, it was woven into his very soul at this point, and he trusted the Zorc in him to guide him, but it was still a bit off-putting. Not enough to make him unhappy, though.

Both of them enjoyed the memory of the fire last night, the various ways in which they'd tormented Yugi Moto - in particular, Bakura loved reliving that sound Marik had drawn out of Yugi, that exquisite sound identical to the sound of Pharaoh Atemu crying out in pain - and they looked to the future…uncertainly, but overall, contentedly. Neither of them thought about that weird hand-holding experience that had happened. No, that wasn't on either of their minds - especially not considering that Bakura had to hold onto Marik as they drove. Not at all. It had been a strange, random thing, not worth pondering.

They rode together in silence, until Marik started finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. Sleep hadn't really been a priority of his lately, especially not since Bakura didn't need it at all - he wanted to keep up with his partner. But as he found himself drifting off in the middle of the road going several dozen miles per hour, he remembered that Bakura had told him that he had nothing else to prove; and besides, the fact that he was human wasn't _his_ fault.

So, without really thinking about it all that much, he pulled over…and wasn't able to concentrate quite enough to avoid falling into a ditch.

_BANG!_

The next few moments were a jumble of tumbling and crashing and getting hit by a large metal object repeatedly, and then Marik and Bakura were at the bottom of a short, steep hill, with Marik's motorcycle on top of them.

"Get off me, you bloody thing," Bakura grumbled angrily, tossing the motorcycle a short ways away with the power of his Millennium Ring - a bit excessive, perhaps, but he really did hate that machine, and all the more so now.

Bakura pushed himself up and gave his heart a single beat to asses his injuries, not noticing the one or two good samaritans who had stopped to see if they were okay - at any rate, his movement reassured them, and he was left alone. Ryou's body was a bit bruised and battered, but nothing appeared to be broken, so he shrugged off the damage as negligible - he would have to let the body live for a little while so it could repair itself, but that could wait. It was a good thing Marik had been slowing down before they'd fallen, or it would have been much worse.

Marik…

Bakura turned around to look at his companion. Marik was still on the ground, his eyes closed. Bakura felt his heart give another beat involuntarily at the sight as he momentarily feared the worst…but no, Marik was breathing, even twitching - he'd probably live.

And then, finally, Bakura registered what had happened. He got down on his knees, grabbed Marik by the shoulders, and shook him angrily.

"What the bloody hell was that about?!" he demanded.

Marik groaned, half-opening his eyes blearily. "Wha…?"

"Why did you crash?!" Bakura roared at him. "I thought you could handle that bloody thing!"

"…Crash…?" Marik repeated, as though he wasn't entirely sure what the word meant. Bakura should have gotten angry, but for some reason, a different sensation tightened his chest. Marik was stupid, but he wasn't normally _this_ stupid…

Marik groaned again and tried to get his balance, and Bakura let his grip go slack. "Ohh, my head," the idiot human moaned, sitting up. "What happened?"

"I just asked _you_ that!" Bakura exclaimed. "What the bloody hell _did_ happen?!"

"I pulled over…" Marik said slowly. He blinked a few times and looked up. "I guess I went off the road."

"Yes," Bakura said with forced patience. "Yes you did. Would you mind explaining why?"

"I didn't mean to," Marik said, not quite as angrily as he should have. "I just…needed to rest."

Bakura's mind quickly put a few things together, and he blinked. "Marik," he said slowly, "when was the last time you slept?"

"Um…a few days ago?" Marik said weakly. "I don't know."

It was Bakura's turn to groan, with frustration, and he threw himself back against the grassy slope. "Why haven't you been sleeping?" he moaned, rubbing a hand over his face, completely fed up.

"Well…I didn't want to slow you down," Marik answered sheepishly. "I mean, _you_ don't sleep. I just wanted to…keep up."

Bakura took a few _very_ deep breaths, forcing himself to ignore the knife in his pocket that almost begged to be used. When at last he thought he could face Marik without killing him, he opened his eyes, looked directly into Marik's bleary, violet irises, took him by the shoulders, and said, "Let me make something _very_ clear to you." He hesitated, registering that Marik didn't seem fully conscious, then added, "And I'm going to repeat myself after you've gotten some rest so I can be absolutely sure you understand me: Do _not_ try to 'keep up' with me. I'm not human. You are. It is physically impossible for you to 'keep up'. And while you _would_ stop slowing me down if you worked yourself to death so that I didn't have to deal with you anymore, I'd _like_ to believe you aren't _that_ bloody stupid."

Something flickered in Marik's hazy eyes. "Do you…want me to die?" he asked faintly. "Would that make things better for you?"

Bakura opened his mouth, but no answer came out, and he was surprised to find that he wasn't sure of one. He'd always worked alone through a host, or with subordinates, but never with someone who was something like an equal…and though Marik was exasperating and baffling and exhausting to deal with, they'd had a lot of fun together already. He closed his mouth and took a few moments to imagine Marik dying right here and now, and how his life would go afterwards. Would it be better?

"…No," he finally answered, as much to himself as to Marik. "No, I don't want that."

A smile tugged at Marik's lips. Then, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out.

Bakura sighed and let the impossible fool lie down. In all the millennia he'd been in existence, he had never had to deal with anything even remotely like this. It was a very strange sensation, having a new experience - and an unpleasant new experience at that. It was an even more strange sensation to realize that he would miss Marik if he died. Bakura had never felt that way about anyone before, not in three thousand years. How had he gotten attached - and to such an exasperating moron, at that? This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Attachment was for those who walked in the Light…

He felt a headache start to come on - the kind that came with mental strain, not physical injury - and looked around for something else to think about. He couldn't move Marik, not like this, especially since he didn't know how to drive a motorcycle…

That damn motorcycle.

Cold brown eyes fell on the hated monstrosity, lying a little ways down the ditch on its side. Was it even off, or was it still running?

Bakura sighed and stood up, deciding he might as well do something productive. He carefully stepped over Marik and approached the machine; it was still making some noise, so it was probably still running, but he realized that he didn't even know how to turn it off.

And that meant desperate measures.

_Are you awake in there?_ he thought at the person sealed in Millennium Ring.

_Yes,_ the reply came readily.

_Do you know anything about motorcycles?_ Bakura asked him.

_I could look,_ Ryou replied.

_You do realize taking over would mean having to deal with whatever sort of damage this body suffered?_ Bakura pointed out. _I can't tell myself, but it would probably be too painful for you to be able to do anything useful. Just tell me how to turn the bloody thing off, maybe how to tell if something's bent or broken._

_I was watching just now,_ Ryou said; _I know none of my bones are broken or anything, and it's probably even less severe than what you guys did to me last time. I can handle it, really._

Bakura scowled.

_Do you want my help or not?_

_Why would you even _want_ to help?_ Bakura demanded. _I despise you, and you should hate me too, considering what my existence means for you._

_Well, yes…_ Ryou said slowly. _But…it's not like there's anything I can do to make you go away. Besides, it's kind of sweet how you care so much about Marik._

Bakura's eyes widened, and he turned on Ryou's heartbeat and all the other functions his body performed, then channeled all the resulting pain signals that were sent to the brain straight through to the Millennium Ring. _I don't bloody care about Marik,_ he snarled as Ryou cried out from the sudden agony. _I just don't want to deal with him whining about his precious toy when he wakes up - and I also have nothing better to do._

It seemed the flesh wasn't as damaged as Bakura had all but hoped, though, as Ryou was able to get a grip on himself even though Bakura was still sending all the pain to his consciousness. _I was listening before,_ he told the malevolent spirit. _I heard you admit to yourself that you care about him._

_Shut up!_ Bakura snapped. _Shut up right now or I swear I will take out my knife, carve the Eye of Wdjat on your chest deep enough to scrape your ribs, and then make you take over so you have to deal with it!_

Ryou was silent in response to this.

_Now,_ Bakura said, _I'm going to let you take over so you can take a look at this bloody machine like you so badly want to. And I am going to watch. And if you try to say anything to me about Marik, I will take back control, and I _will_ hurt you. Am I understood?_

_Yes,_ Ryou said meekly.

_Good,_ Bakura spat, and he did as he said he would.

As Ryou looked over the machine Bakura hated so much, Bakura forced himself to focus on everything that was happening in Ryou's mind and through his eyes. Even thinking about motorcycles was a much better option than thinking about Marik.

~o~

Hours passed. A few people stopped to ask if they were alright, and Ryou sent them on their way with a smile and a few reassuring words of explanation. One or two good samaritans offered various forms of help, which Ryou politely declined for the most part, though he did convince Bakura to let him accept some help assessing the damage to the motorcycle. It, too, seemed relatively unharmed, and Bakura wasn't sure whether to be happy or unhappy about that.

Sunset had passed, and the moon was high in the sky, by the time Marik finally woke up. He groaned the moment he started gaining consciousness, as his body quite loudly trumpeted its injuries and protested all the abuse Marik had been putting it through and having slept in an awkward position at the bottom of a ditch for a whole day. Before he was even fully awake, he tried to speak. "'Kura…"

Surprisingly warm hands were on his arms a few moments later, trying to help him. "Can you stand?" a gentle voice asked as he was pulled up.

Marik moaned again. He had a fair number of bruises and a bump on his head, but, like Bakura, he had somehow managed to escape serious injury - by some miracle, he didn't have a concussion, so it was good that he'd slept. It was still difficult for him to find his balance, though, especially in the uneven terrain and the dark.

"I hurt all over," he managed.

"You were both lucky," that gentle voice told him. "We could have gotten seriously injured. But you seem to be alright."

Marik suddenly registered the voice, and he blinked his eyes into focus and looked up at a pale face whitewashed by moonlight. "Bakura…?" he asked.

"Erm…no," the shy boy said awkwardly. "It's Ryou, right now. Your, um, partner…is, um…a bit grumpy at the moment."

"Is he mad at me?" Marik found himself asking nervously.

Ryou hesitated an oddly long time before replying, "You could say that. Not too angry, though - he just wants a bit of a break."

"Okay," Marik said slowly. He looked around. "My motorcycle…?"

Ryou chuckled, the sound oddly serene and pleasant after over a month of Bakura's evil laughs. "It's fine," he told Marik; "we've been working on it all day to make sure it works properly. He was afraid you'd start complaining if something was wrong."

Marik blinked. "Oh," he said. "That was, um…nice of him."

The Millennium Ring gleamed momentarily, and then Bakura hissed, "Don't get any ideas, you idiot."

"Oh, Bakura, there you are," Marik said quickly. "I'm sorry about-"

"Don't bother apologizing," Bakura cut him off. "I know what happened, and as long as you promise not to be so bloody stupid again, I'll let it go." His eyes, sharp and cold once more, narrowed into a glare as he met Marik's nervous gaze. "I'll say it again, just to make sure you heard me: Do not _ever_ attempt to 'keep up' with me. You can't, and you won't be doing anyone any bloody favors by trying."

"I'm sorry," Marik said meekly.

"As long as you start using common bloody sense from now on, I'll forgive you," Bakura spat. "Now come on, your bloody monstrosity is working just fine, and we can't stay here. Help me lift it."

Marik nodded. "Thank you for not just leaving me here," he said as they got ready to heft the machine Bakura despised with every fiber of his being back onto the road. Bakura took the far end, Marik the near; they lifted in sync without even having to say anything to each other.

"I told you, I can't leave you," Bakura said as they climbed out after Marik's motorcycle. "Honor among thieves, remember?"

"I remember," Marik said, smiling. Then he glanced over Bakura, suddenly noticing his battered appearance in the occasional glow of headlights as cars passed. "Wow, do I look as bad as you?"

Bakura went very, very still. A few moments passed. Then he sighed and admitted, "Worse, actually." _Please don't please don't please don't please don't-_

"Ugh!" Marik exclaimed. "We need to clean up!"

_I said don't,_ Bakura thought, rolling his eyes.

Marik climbed onto his precious vehicle and started it up, relieved to find that it was indeed working properly. "Come on, Bakura," he called over the noise. "We're stopping the next chance we get."

"Of course we are," Bakura grumbled, getting on behind Marik. How could he have thought, just that morning, that he was attached, that he would be anything but relieved to be rid of this insufferable buffoon?

But as they got back on the road, Bakura was surprised to find that in fact, despite Marik's impossible nature, his own feelings were even more impossible than the human - somehow, he was still glad that Marik was okay.


	15. Home

Getting a call from Odion that afternoon and finding out the Millennium Necklace was safely accounted for did not make Ishizu feel better. She wondered if there was anything that _could_ make her feel better. Odion wondered the same thing.

"Would you like me to join you?" he asked Ishizu after she finished telling him about the fire and Yugi's run-in with their brother. "Would that help you?"

She sighed. "No," she said, "you should stay away from here."

"Are you going to come home?"

"I'm going to stay for Solomon Moto's funeral," Ishizu told her older brother. "It's the least I can do. After that…" She trailed off uncertainly.

Odion didn't push her. "What will happen to Yugi?" he asked instead, correctly guessing how his sister felt about the young man's situation.

Ishizu sighed. "I don't know," she said. "I feel like we owe it to him to do something, but…I don't know."

There was silence for a minute.

"You should come home after the funeral," Odion said at last.

"You think Marik will hurt me." It wasn't a question.

"I think Master Marik doesn't makes idle threats," was all Odion said in response.

She sighed again. "I wish Father had just let you take initiation," she said.

Odion didn't respond for a minute, and this time for good reason. Ishizu had never actually said it out loud to him, though he knew full well that she had thought it for a long time. He had, too. Sometimes he felt as though he had failed his younger brother - and, by extension, their mother - by not stopping Marik's initiation. He'd tried, yes, but he always wondered if there was something more he could have done…

"I know," he said at last.

Ishizu nodded, even though Odion couldn't see. "I'll call you if anything happens," she told him; "will you do the same?"

"Yes."

She nodded again and opened her mouth to say goodbye. Then she hesitated, and decided to say something more important: "I love you, my brother."

"I love you, sister," he said in reply.

And they hung up.

~X~

Yugi's friends didn't have places of their own in Domino City - they were staying with family - and none of their situations could accommodate Yugi full time. Ironically, the only friend of theirs who had a place Yugi could stay was Ryou. They couldn't ask his permission, obviously, but Yugi and his friends tried to tell themselves and each other that Ryou would want to help Yugi, especially considering that it was his jailer who had done this. Sort of.

That didn't make staying there any easier on Yugi. He knew that the two men who had taken everything from him had spent time here, and the place felt unclean, as though Darkness itself had left its taint behind forever, coating the floor, the walls, the furniture…

Existence hurt. Every minute of every day, Yugi's heart ached, his senses deadened. It was like a nightmare, where nothing was real except the pain. His physical injuries didn't really register half the time - the anguish in his soul drowned out everything. He couldn't even trust himself to think or feel the same thing between any two given moments. Everything he owned, his home, his family, all of it was gone. The media wanted to make a big deal out of the tragedy that had befallen the King of Games, but he hid away, even though his hiding place felt like a damp, dark cave, malevolence running down the walls and dripping from the ceiling onto his head…

A little box holding a bunch of chunks of gold, a single charred Kuriboh card, and a singed set of clothes were his only possessions now. He'd given up on trying to reassemble the Puzzle, and night after night, he just started at that one card from his precious deck that he'd managed to save, the slight marks from the fire reminding him of the last night of his life. Again and again, he relived the flames, his grandfather's death, Marik and Bakura's cruel laughter…

But one thing hurt more than any other: Bakura's first words to him that night.

_You think this hurts? Imagine _everyone_ burning right in front of you - not even just your family and friends, but everyone whose faces you'd ever seen! _That_ is pain, human! This? This is nothing!_

And Yugi did imagine it. In his nightmares, he imagined finding everyone else he knew lying dead in an enormous fire, as he had his grandfather: Joey, Tristan, Tea, Serenity, Kaiba, Mokuba, Rebecca, Mai, Odion, Ishizu, Duke, Mako, Weevil, Rex, Pegasus, Keith, Alistor, Rafael, Valon, Leon, classmates, neighbors, even people whose faces he only vaguely remembered from Duelist Kingdom or Battle City and whose names he'd never known…Friends, enemies, and strangers alike, all burning right before his eyes, and he just stood by helplessly and watched. Sometimes he even saw Atemu, all decked out in his finery as the great Pharaoh, lying motionless in the inferno. And it was always in different places - various places in Kaibaland, school, an apartment building, a warehouse, a shop…every single place in Domino City burned to ash in his mind at night.

That_ is pain, human!_

The only thing Yugi was spared of was the screams. He couldn't imagine the screaming that had filled the air during the massacre of Kuhl-Elna - he hadn't even heard his grandfather scream. No, the sound that haunted him was the crackling of flames in the stillness of the nighttime.

And it was unbearable. The nightmares he lived in while he slept felt so real, and the real world he lived in while awake felt so distant. It was like simultaneously being crushed in a compressor and chopped up into tiny little pieces, suffocated and torn apart all at once. No child could experience this and stay sane, he thought. He wasn't even sure he could maintain a semblance of his own sanity, even after a fair number of years of life and having seen a lot of horrible things.

And he had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Bakura's utter hatred for the world made sense.

The fact that he couldn't help feeling sympathy for the one who'd torn his life apart made everything much, much worse.

For the first time in his life, he hated his heart. He hated being such a good, kind, caring person. He wished he could not care. He wished he could just hate Bakura and Marik, with no thought for why they'd done the things they'd done. What was it Bakura had kept calling him? A champion of Light? Well, Yugi hated the Light in his soul now - it wasn't doing anything to chase away the darkness and shadows that smothered him, it only gave them something to smother. He wanted to hate the world. He wanted to feel hatred for _something_. But hatred was an emotion that simply didn't exist in his heart - the closest he could get was anger. Instead, all that filled him was sorrow, and pain, and loss.

His friends tried to keep him company as much as they could, but even when they were all there with him, he barely noticed. They tried to get him to talk, but how could he tell them what he was feeling? How could he explain that it wasn't just the loss of his grandfather and his home that tormented him, that it was that everything was wrong with the world and he felt like he'd been born with a defective soul? They wouldn't understand. No one could understand. He didn't even understand himself. Instead, he went through the motions of life like an automaton, as though it were someone else controlling his body while he stayed sealed away in a dark, cold, empty void.

His friends weren't at all fooled by the words and expressions he gave them - they knew none of it was real. They knew he barely even registered that they were there. Trying to cheer him up felt wrong, and trying to get him to talk about what was going on was impossible. All they could do was offer their presence, to maybe make him feel a bit less alone. Maybe it helped. Maybe not. No one could say.

Things went on like this for a long time - how many days, exactly, Yugi couldn't tell. With no family besides himself, there was no one to arrange his grandfather's funeral - he couldn't do it, couldn't do anything. With this, too, his friends all pitched in to help. He signed off whatever rights to whatever he had to to them, trying not to even think about it - just doing as much as acknowledging the funeral rendered him unable to breathe. They did their best to do Solomon Moto justice, to pay tribute both to his renown as a gamer and his renown as an archaeologist. His friend Arthur, Rebecca's grandfather, provided all the mementos and memories of old times he could dig up, and Joey put together a long, heartfelt tribute to Mr. Moto's tutoring in the game of Duel Monsters, without which Joey wouldn't have been able to get the prize money from Duelist Kingdom to save his sister's eyesight. Yugi barely even registered the proceedings, making promises without knowing he'd even spoken. It seemed like both an eternity and an instant before the day came.

The next thing Yugi knew, he was standing at a podium before an audience, his grandfather in a casket behind him. It was the first moment he'd experienced of true consciousness since moving into Ryou's place. Words he'd recited robotically were on his lips, but as he found himself awake all of a sudden, he couldn't repeat them now. They were hollow, the words of a deadened soul; his grandfather deserved better than that.

Tears choked him - conscious feeling meant more hurting, he couldn't help himself - but he knew no one would rush him, and he knew he had to speak; _truly_ speak, as himself, not some facade imitating him.

"My grandfather…shaped everything in my life," he managed after a few minutes. "As an Egyptologist and an archaeologist, he was the only one who could breach the tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh, and the puzzle he found inside, he gave to me to solve. Without him, I wouldn't have met any of the amazing people I am honored to call my friends today - both those who are here, and those…who are not.

"I'm known as the King of Games, due to winning a prestigious tournament held and headed by the man who created the game in question. I've won other tournaments since then - only my closest friends know about any of the losses I've experienced in the game of Duel Monsters." Some people chuckled slightly, unsure if he was joking. "But I'm not the one who deserves that title," he went on, "because my grandfather taught me everything I know about the game, and gave me the deck with which I won the Duelist Kingdom tournament - and the cards he gave me are…were…far greater and more valuable than the Egyptian God Cards everyone loves to rave about." Again, a few uncertain chuckles. "If anything, I only deserve the title of Prince of Games - the true crown goes to my grandfather.

"Not only for card games, not even only for friends, am I grateful to my grandfather. He also raised me. His card shop was my home…his home was my home. My parents…have not been in my life for a long time - but he was the only parent I ever needed. I…" His voice cracked, and he took a moment to collect himself. "I don't know…what I'm going to do now," he confessed to the world. "With my grandfather gone…I have no home. It's not the card shop - if he…were alive today, we could find a new home. But I'm…I'm alone now. I have no home, and I don't know where I belong in this world anymore."

This confession was met with a thick, heavy silence. People held their breath for fear of breaking the stillness, in respect for the grieving young man so many looked up to.

"My grandfather, Solomon Moto, may have been old, but he was young at heart, and he had several years left in him at least," Yugi said softly. "No one could have been less deserving of the fate he suffered. A madman who had no right to hurt him took him from this world too soon. And that madman had better hope that I never see him again, because if I do…I don't know what I might do."

A tiny gasp in the crowd drew everyone's attention. Yugi didn't look, though - he knew who had made the sound and why. "I am sorry," he said, reclaiming everyone's attention, "that the madman in question is the brother of a good friend of mine…a man I would have considered to be a friend himself, if he hadn't turned his back on everyone who would have ever cared for him. My only comfort is the knowledge that he, like me, now has no home anywhere in this world. There is no rest for him, from now until the day he burns in Hell." Yugi looked back at the casket for a moment, then turned frontwards again and bowed his head. "Rest in peace, grandpa," he whispered, just barely audible in the stillness. "Please…rest in peace." Silently, he added, _May Atemu welcome you to the afterlife, where I'll see you again someday. I'll try to make you proud, wherever I go in life until then…but for now…my soul has no home._

~X~

Bakura had had many homes over the centuries - or at least, his hosts had - and for that matter, he had had many hosts, but he had never had to actually live with a roommate…and if putting up with Marik was any indication of what it was like, he wondered how anyone could survive such an existence. The ancient spirit honestly could not fathom how one solitary human could take more than three hours in a hotel room bathroom with only a few bumps and scrapes to worry about. His doubts that Marik would really be able to last indefinitely on their 'road trip' with no place to call home grew exponentially by the second.

Hours weren't long periods of time to Bakura - he'd existed for millennia, hours were like the blink of an eye to him. But sitting in a hotel room waiting for Marik to finish 'cleaning up' dragged on so much he could have sworn he'd spent another three millennia of existence just waiting. He might have thought the idiot had slipped in the shower and broken his neck, but sounds proved that the impossible human was still alive in there, and doing something.

After five hours, Bakura absolutely could not take it anymore, and he walked up and pounded on the door.

"Marik!" he shouted. "I swear to Zorc, if you don't come out of there in the next five minutes, I will use my knife to peel your tattoos off your back!"

Exactly four minutes and thirty-nine seconds later - Bakura counted, as he'd had literally nothing else to do - the door finally opened.

"Nice to see you at last, princess," Bakura growled from his seat as Marik waltzed out on a cloud of steam. "I hope it's okay that I took you away from your hairstyling an hour too soon."

So help him, Marik actually raised a hand to his hair. "You think it needs another hour?" he asked without even a trace of irony.

"I was being facetious," Bakura barely managed through gritted teeth.

"Oh." Marik blinked. "Sheesh, you need to relax."

Bakura's fists clenched, his eyes screwed shut, and he forced himself to breathe as he summoned every ounce of willpower in his being to do just that.

"Marik," he said in a low, dangerous voice after a minute, "I am going to start keeping track of the number of times I've had to resist the urge to slash your throat. When I reach ten, I will stop resisting. Do you understand?"

"How many are we at?" Marik asked nervously.

"If I narrow it down specifically to the times I've had to physically restrain my hand from pulling out my knife and ramming it through your neck? Three," Bakura answered.

It was naïve of the evil spirit to expect some sort of apology from Marik, if not outright groveling. What he got was a few moments of thoughtful silence, followed by Marik saying, "You wouldn't kill me."

Bakura forced his eyes open, and was met with an infuriatingly smug expression. "You don't think so?" he hissed.

"You wouldn't," Marik said. "You said it yourself."

"I said no such thing!" Bakura snapped.

"Yes you did!" Marik argued, an aggravating smile on his face. "Remember? I asked you if you wanted me to die, if that would make life easier for you, and you said no, you didn't want that."

That left Bakura speechless for a moment. He had kind of hoped that, since Marik had been exhausted and hit on the head and on the verge of passing out, he wouldn't remember him saying that. He was actually sort of trying not to remember it himself.

And Marik's smirk was getting _very_ annoying.

Bakura stood up, reached into his pocket, and took out his knife. This was rewarded by a flicker of fear crossing Marik's expression, but he was still too confident.

"You do _not_ want to push me, mortal," Bakura warned, stalking towards him, knife at the ready. Marik stepped back as his partner stepped forward, until he was pinned against a wall.

"Wait!" Marik exclaimed, and he wasn't smiling anymore. "You said you'd wait until you got to ten times!"

"This is what you get for pushing me," Bakura replied coldly. He raised his knife, took the handle in both hands, and threw the full force of his weight behind it as he brought it down. Marik closed his eyes and cringed, whimpering, expecting death. It was pathetic, really, how scared he was in that moment - but that was how it was supposed to be. Bakura was meant to be feared. _No_ _one_ challenged him.

_THUD!_

The knife made a dull noise as it hit its target, and then everything was still, save for Bakura's heavy breathing and Marik's whimpering. Eventually, Marik realized he wasn't dead, and he slowly, timidly opened his eyes. Bakura's face was inches away from his, his body weight still behind the knife that was stuck an inch deep in the wall and scarily close to touching Marik's ear. Those violet eyes went round.

"Do not," Bakura repeated, "push me."

"Okay," Marik said meekly. "I'm sorry."

Bakura held the position for a few moments more, then pulled the knife out of the wall and stepped back, satisfied.

"Now that that's out of the way," he sneered as he put his knife back into his pocket, "would you mind telling me what you could possibly have spent five hours doing in the bathroom?"

"Five hours?" Marik repeated, genuinely surprised. "I really took that long?"

"Yes," Bakura growled.

"I'm sorry," Marik repeated, still nervous. "I…I didn't realize I was in there for so long. It's just…I don't get to enjoy luxury very much, you know? This place is…really nice. I've been in a place this nice maybe three other times in my life."

This was news to Bakura, and surprising enough to drive his irritation away. "Why didn't you ask your affluent sister to get you some luxury while you were home?" he asked, confused.

Marik gave a strangled chuckle. "Home?" he repeated. "I don't have a home. I haven't had a home since I left that old tomb, and leaving that place was one of the best decisions I ever made. I mean…" He frowned, thinking. "I guess I stayed with my sister for a while…almost six years, actually. Huh…that never really registered. It never felt like a home. I always felt like I was an outsider, like I didn't belong. So…I never thought to ask anything of my sister."

Bakura met Marik's eyes for a good few minutes. "My home burned down in front of me when I was a child," he said at last. "Since then, the only living spaces I've ever had are the ones my hosts have provided me over the centuries - and those were never really mine, just stolen pieces of other people's lives. This," He held up the Millennium Ring and shook it so that the prongs jingled. "is my home. There isn't much to it, but at least I can take it wherever I go."

To his surprise, Marik nodded, an oddly sad look in his eyes. "Well, at least you know where you belong," he said.

Bakura considered this. "I belong the same place you belong," he finally told Marik: "wherever the shadows take us."

"That's not the same as a home."

"Why not?" he asked with a shrug. "Isn't that what a home is - a place where you belong? You said it yourself, your sister's house wasn't a home because you didn't belong there. You belong with me."

It took a moment for Bakura to realize what he'd said. Then, Ryou's heart struggled to beat in his chest, and he fought not to show how embarrassed he felt for saying such a thing. He hadn't meant to, the words had just sort of come out - and now he couldn't take them back. He kept his face impassive, his eyes cold, as though there was nothing sentimental about what he'd said, like it was just a simple fact.

_Do you want me to do it for you?_ Ryou asked him from inside the Millennium Ring. _I could, if you're too embarrassed._

_I don't know what you're talking about, but you should shut up before I hurt you,_ Bakura snapped.

Oblivious to Bakura's internal argument, Marik felt a wan smile cross his face. "Thanks, partner," he said softly. He hesitated, then added, "Now, um…I know I took a long time cleaning up, so you're probably impatient to go, but I haven't eaten anything in a while…"

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Go ahead, eat to your heart's content," he sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "And if you want to get some more sleep before we go, do that too. Far be it from me to restrict your attending to the needs of the flesh. Just as long as it's _needs_ you're addressing."

For some reason, this caused Ryou's laughter to echo in Bakura's head.


	16. Alone

**WARNING: This chapter contains extreme gore. I'm sure you can find more detailed gore elsewhere on this site, but I feel obligated to put a warning here.**

* * *

Days passed. Marik and Bakura went whichever way the wind blew them, leaving rivers of blood and fire in their wake - fire that was becoming more deadly by the day, as Marik started to claim lives. Sometimes they used their Millennium Items, but most of the time, they did things the old-fashioned way. The randomness of it all was fun…for a while.

But, slowly, they started to get bored.

"Is there anywhere in particular in the world you want to go?" Marik asked Bakura one night during a rest-stop, which Bakura insisted on Marik having no less than once a day.

Bakura smiled. "I've been everywhere, Marik," he said, putting a hand to his Millennium Ring. "This pendant has been all over the world, and I've taken hosts everywhere I've ended up." His expression turned a bit pensive as he added, "Somehow, though, it always manages to find its way back to Egypt."

"So that's probably the last place we should go, huh?" Marik chuckled.

"I don't mind either way," Bakura said, shrugging. "If you're homesick, I'm not against going back."

"_You're_ my home, Bakura," Marik teased.

Bakura glared at him. "Don't push it," he warned. He let his words hang in the air for a moment, just to be sure he was clear, then asked, "Is there someplace in particular _you_ want to go?"

"Honestly? I'd love to go everywhere," Marik replied. He looked at the Millennium Ring enviously. "I wish I could live forever."

"I wouldn't exactly call this 'living'," Bakura pointed out.

But Marik waved his hand. "Meh, it's close enough," he said dismissively, as if he had even the faintest idea what he was talking about. Bakura had learned when to let Marik's idiocy go, though. "I was just thinking, we could go anywhere whenever we want to, thanks to my Millennium Rod, but if there was some place in particular that you like, we could actually settle down somewhere. It would be kind of nice, having an actual base to ourselves, don't you think?"

"Why, exactly?" Bakura asked, raising one white eyebrow at his young companion.

"Well…" Marik fumbled for a minute. "We, um…well, for one thing, we wouldn't have to carry everything we own with us everywhere we go."

"Ah, yes, the endless human pursuit of material possessions," Bakura said mockingly.

"We don't have to own tons of useless junk!" Marik said defensively. "But we could store the stuff we _need_, if we had a base. And I could have a change of clothes."

"Change of clothes: need or want?" Bakura asked.

This was a sort of code they'd developed. They'd agreed that Marik was allowed to ask for something and get it without question if it was something he physically needed to stay alive and healthy; and sometimes, Bakura wasn't entirely sure whether or not a certain request was. They'd both been wrong on an equal number of occasions.

"I don't know," Marik grumbled. "It would make me stop feeling like I want to crawl out of my own skin, if that counts."

Bakura gave an exaggerated sigh, but he was sincere when he admitted, "That does sound more like a need than a want. Bloody hell, you humans are so high-maintenance…"

"That is not my fault," Marik snapped.

"I didn't say it was," Bakura said lightly. "But whether it's your fault or not doesn't make it any less true."

Marik rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So, where are we going to set up?"

"I think a better question would be, _how_ are we going to set up?" Bakura replied. "Your Millennium Rod has its limits, so we can't exactly buy a house - or any property, for that matter."

"True." Marik considered this for a minute. "Well, while we think about that, let's also think about where. Do you want to go home, or should we go somewhere very different?"

"_You're_ the one who keeps bringing it up," Bakura pointed out. "If you want to set up in Egypt for whatever nostalgic reason, just come out and say it."

"Hey, nostalgia's got nothing to do with it," Marik protested. "I'd still like to see different kinds of places…and burn them to the ground," he added mischievously; "but Egypt is familiar. It's more comfortable there."

"I believe that's exactly what nostalgia means," Bakura said pointedly.

"Once again: Whatever," Marik retorted.

Bakura allowed himself one annoyed sigh to let out a bit of his frustration and keep his temper down, then said, "There's still the problem of _how_ we'd end up with a place that belongs to us, regardless of where we might want to be. We don't have many options."

A frown crossed Marik's face as he considered this. A minute passed in silence. Then, suddenly, a malicious spark that Bakura very much liked the look of lit up Marik's violet eyes. "I have an idea," he said.

"And I already get the feeling I'm going to like it," Bakura smirked.

"We can _make_ a place," Marik told him, grinning wickedly.

Disappointed, Bakura frowned. "Really? That's your brilliant idea? Building something?"

A nasty chuckle piqued his interest again, and Marik said, "I didn't say anything about _building_…"

~X~

Marik and Bakura made no attempt to hide their exploits, so there was no question when they started moving their operations away from Domino City. To Yugi, this was just adding insult to injury - what kind of cowards could rip his life apart and then just run away? But still, the worst emotion he could summon in response was anger.

Ishizu stayed in Domino a few more days, mostly because she would have felt guilty about leaving without doing something to help Yugi first. It was impossible to figure out anything she could do, though, because he refused to speak to anyone at all after the funeral - and his friends tried, almost nonstop.

Joey, Tristan, and Tea worked hard to get through to their friend. Sometimes they would all be there together, sometimes they alternated who was with him, but they tried to keep him from being alone at any point. No matter what, day or night, Yugi didn't speak. He went through the motions of life just fine - eating, sleeping, maintaining hygiene - but his soul might as well have been in the Shadow Realm for all the difference it would have made to him as a person.

Late one night, Yugi was sitting on Ryou's couch, staring at nothing. Sometimes he did this, and sometimes stared at his Kuriboh card - it still wasn't clear which was a worse sign. It was Tea who was with him, trying to force him to life, but he ignored her.

At last, she sat down next to him and sighed. "Yugi…you can't keep doing this," she told him. "You can't just give up on living. That's exactly what they want!"

No response.

She thought. "You know…Atemu acted exactly like this when that Orichalcos thing took you away," she reminisced. "I tried everything to get him to talk, and he just pretended none of us existed." She couldn't help smiling despite herself. "Joey actually punched him in the face," she told Yugi. Her smile faded quickly, and she went on, "When he finally came to life, it was when Weevil ambushed us on a train. And he…he kind of…exploded. At the end of the duel, when he beat Weevil…he used this card, I can't remember what it was, but it let his monster attack every time he drew a monster card, and he kept drawing monster cards and making his monster hit Weevil, even after the Orichalcos took his soul away and he was just an empty husk. It was like…he thought that if he could beat Weevil up enough, it would bring you back and fix everything. And when I finally got him to snap out of it and he realized the duel was over, he grabbed Weevil and started shaking him, demanding to know where you were - like he still didn't understand that Weevil was gone." She blinked the memory away and turned worriedly to her friend in the present. "I don't want you to end up like that," she said softly.

For a moment, Yugi was still. Then, at last, a response: He hung his head and gave a humorless chuckle.

Tea blinked.

"You think I'll end up hurting someone?" Yugi asked her, his voice rough from lack of use.

"I…I don't know," Tea replied, frantically trying to figure out what to say that would keep him talking. "I just know it's…not good to be like this."

"Well, I won't hurt anyone," Yugi said in an odd tone. "I won't _ever_ hurt anyone."

"You said at the funeral you might hurt Marik if you saw him," she remembered out loud.

"I wish," Yugi muttered.

"Wh…?" Tea leaned down, trying to get a better look at Yugi's face. "Yugi…do you…_want_ to hurt someone?"

"I want to _want_ to hurt someone," he told her. "But I don't." He shook his head, then finally looked up and met her eyes. "I want to hate them, Tea," he said softly. "I want to just hate Marik and Bakura and wish they were dead, like anyone else would."

"But…you don't," Tea half-asked.

Yugi shook his head again. "No," he said. "I don't. I can't. I'm _trying_, Tea. I _want_ to hate them like any sane person would do."

Tea chose her words carefully. "You're not a…hateful person," she said slowly. "That's not who you are."

"But _why_, Tea?" he asked, frustrated. "Am I just broken? Why can't I hate?!"

"You're not broken," Tea said sternly. "Broken people hate other people a lot. I'm surprised you haven't figured that out by now, after all the psychos we've seen."

To her surprise, Yugi laughed, almost hysterically. "And that's exactly the thing, isn't it?" he said through his empty mirth. "They _are_ broken. That's why they did this."

Tea frowned. "Yugi…what's going on?" she asked. "Please tell me."

Yugi's expression faded, and he started to revert back into his withdrawn state. "You wouldn't understand," he said, almost under his breath.

In a panic, Tea grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn to her. He didn't meet her eyes. "Maybe I won't," she said, "but I want you to tell me anyway. I promise I'll try to understand as best as I can."

For a moment, it seemed he was done talking. Then, to her relief, he looked up at her. "Do you remember what I told you Bakura said that night?" he asked her. "About how grandpa burning alive was nothing - how I needed to imagine _everyone_ I know burning alive in front of me to understand pain?"

"Yes," Tea said hesitantly.

"Well, I _have_ been imagining it," he told her. "Every time I fall asleep, I see everyone I've ever met burning in an enormous fire while I stand by and watch. Always in different places around this city, too. I watch everyone and everything I know turn to ash again and again every night. And then I wake up, and I try to remind myself it was just a nightmare…until I remember that it isn't."

"It isn't what?" Tea asked, confused. "It isn't a nightmare? It is!"

"Maybe for _me_ it is," Yugi said; "but it wasn't for Bakura. He lived that experience in the real, waking world - as a _child_, Tea!"

Tea's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

Yugi sighed and turned away, breaking out of her loose grip. "Every time I have that nightmare, and wake up, and remember that I'm lucky to be able to wake up when he couldn't because it was real for him…I feel like…like I understand why he hates the world, why he enjoys hurting people so much," he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear him, as though saying it more softly would make it less true. "I…I feel _sorry_ for him, Tea. He ruined my life, took everything from me, and I feel _bad_ for him. I feel _sympathy_ for him." He shook his head, then looked up and met her eyes, tears filling his at last. "Why, Tea?" he asked in a broken voice. "Why do I feel this way? Why can't I just hate him?"

Tea took several minutes before speaking, making absolutely sure that what she was about to say was clear. This was the turning point, she knew - it was up to her to get Yugi on the road to recovery, and it all depended on what she said next. It was fortunate that she was the sort of person who could think under extreme pressure.

"You feel that way because…you _aren't_ him," she told him at last.

Yugi blinked, causing a tear to leak out of one eyelid.

"When people get badly hurt, yes, some of them do react with hatred," she went on. "There are a lot of people who would react that way. That's what creates people like Bakura, because they blame the world and want everyone else to know their pain so that they don't feel so alone anymore. And when that happens to someone, it's horrible. Most of the time, people lose sight of that because they focus on the further harm that tragedy led to, and they hate the people who hurt them out of hatred." She thought quickly, and revised, "If you hated him, Yugi, you would hate him for hating, and that's just more hate. It's hate that drove him and Marik to kill your grandpa, and if you hated him for it, you would be just like him."

Yugi's brow furrowed, and Tea knew she was on the right track.

"But you aren't an evil person, Yugi," she went on, pretty much winging it now. "Evil people hate…and you're probably one of the least evil people to have ever lived. That's why you can't hate them. Because you're a good person. You're a better person than either of them will ever be, because even when they've torn your life apart and taken everything from you, you can still look at them and recognize them for what they are: hurting and broken. And you can still feel sad for them, for what they are. That's what makes you different from them. That's why…that's why you were the only one who could help Atemu - because your heart is so big and open, you can do without trying what most people couldn't imagine doing."

He swallowed. "It hurts, Tea," he said. "Having a big and open heart hurts."

She nodded. "It does," she agreed. "But the fact that you can't hate the people who ruined your life even in your darkest hour proves that you're one of the strongest people in the world. It would be easy for a normal person to hate them, to take comfort in hating them; but you're so strong, you look past yourself and understand them and care."

Yugi looked down, just like Atemu used to when he was grappling with something that would change his perspective on life.

"Don't let them break you, Yugi," Tea said softly. "Don't let them make you like them. Go on living, and caring - and feel bad for them, feel sorry for them, for what happened to them to make them who they are and do what they did. Because that's what makes you a hero, Yugi."

There was silence.

"Don't let those monsters' Darkness smother your Light," Tea whispered.

The young champion of Light closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Thank you, Tea," he said.

Tea nodded. "And remember that you're not alone," she reminded him. "We're here for you - me and Joey and Tristan, and our other friends, too. You don't have to face this by yourself."

He nodded. "Thank you," he repeated.

For a while, neither of them moved or spoke. Then, Tea gave Yugi a gentle pat on the shoulder, then got up and left, figuring he needed to ponder this alone for a while. He didn't stop her.

~X~

"So, let me see if I've got this straight," Bakura said after Marik finished explaining his idea: "You want to live in an enclosed underground space in the middle of nowhere in Egypt."

"No," Marik argued, "I want to live _somewhere_, and of the limited options we have, _creating_ an enclosed underground space of the middle of nowhere in Egypt for that purpose would be the most fun."

"And then you're going to be living in an enclosed underground space in the middle of nowhere in Egypt," Bakura repeated.

Marik frowned. "Well…yes," he conceded. "But it's not like I'll be _locked_ down there. I'll be free to come and go whenever I want."

"You mean whenever _we_ want," Bakura corrected.

"No," Marik replied, "I mean whenever _I_ want. That's another thing about having an actual home - we can go off separately and do our own things without actually leaving each other."

Bakura's eyes doubled in size at this.

"In fact, you won't even have to worry about getting blood on my motorcycle after you get one of your crazy blood-fixes," Marik went on. "You won't even have to ride my motorcycle! You can just walk out in the night and do your shadow impersonation, and then wear the blood all the way back, and then you can wash off. You won't ever have to touch my motorcycle again!"

"Marik, why the bloody hell didn't you bloody mention this earlier?!" Bakura exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "What the bloody hell are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"I need to sleep now," Marik reminded him. "_You_ insist, remember?"

"Bloody mortal body…" Bakura grumbled as he sat back down, adding some other words under his breath, among which Marik thought he could make out "weak" and "flesh" - and definitely the word "bloody" repeated a few more times.

Marik smirked and lay down. "Don't worry," he told his partner, "we can get started first thing tomorrow. If we don't stop for too many things on the way, we might make it there before next year."

An agonized groan rewarded his sass, and Marik fell asleep with a smile on his face.

~X~

"Are you sure?" Ishizu asked for the thousandth time as she got ready to board her flight home.

"I'll be fine, Ishizu," Yugi promised her, "and I'll be sure to call you and let you know if that changes."

"Please do," she said. She hesitated, then opened her mouth to say something else.

"I know what you're going to say," Yugi told her. "You haven't stopped saying it. There's nothing to apologize for. What Marik did wasn't your fault. I know you might not believe that, but there was nothing you could have done."

Ishizu hesitated, then nodded. "Thank you, Yugi," she said.

Yugi smiled at her. "Please, don't feel bad," he told her. "Your brother actually taught me something very important."

Ishizu blinked.

Yugi's smile widened. "Darkness is nothing without Light, and Light is nothing without Darkness," he said. "The reason I am who I am is because there are people like him in the world. And I won't ever lose sight of who I am again."

"I'm…glad," Ishizu said uncertainly.

"Oh, before you go!" He'd deliberately waited until the last minute for this. He reached into a small bag he'd brought with him and took out a little box. "You should take this," he told her.

She accepted the package. It was surprisingly heavy, and she opened it curiously. Gold gleamed at her.

"The Millennium Puzzle…" She looked at him questioningly.

He shrugged. "It doesn't want me," he told her. "I'd feel much better if you were the one to look after it. It's like we said before - if destiny chooses someone to wield it, it will find them no matter who's holding onto it. In the meantime, it would be safest in your hands."

Ishizu hesitated, then nodded. "If you're sure," she said. "Thank you, Yugi."

"And thank you," Yugi said.

And then she left, to return to Egypt. Yugi smiled and watched her go, somehow knowing in his heart that his time of being involved with ancient Egyptian magic was over for good. He would never be involved in anything to do with the Millennium Items or ancient Egypt again, except for the children's card game it had inspired. And he was content knowing that.

~X~

Traveling halfway around the world to northern Africa using nothing but a motorcycle and a mystic mind-controlling scepter was a unique venture, if nothing else. Marik and Bakura didn't waste any opportunities to kill and destroy, either, which made things take a bit longer - but it was worth it.

It took a couple of months. If Marik had been willing to part with his precious motorcycle, they could have flown there in a matter of hours; as it was, they had to take ships across oceans and use mind-control at every international border they came across, as well as elsewhere. Actually, it occurred to Bakura about halfway through the journey that Marik was the one doing all the work, and Bakura himself was just a passenger - which, ironically, was something Bakura was more or less used to.

Having a goal was a nice change as they spread Darkness across the world, too. Bakura secretly counted the miles until he would be rid of Marik's motorcycle, and each one they passed made him happier. Bathing in fresh human blood once a day also kept his spirits up, and he found he was able to endure any and all idiocy Marik could throw at him throughout the journey. Marik, in turn, enjoyed the closest thing to a world tour he would ever take, taking in the sights and relishing the experience of burning some of every type of thing (and person) they saw to the ground.

It was an oddly pleasant couple of months.

And then, at last, they were home. It was something neither of them really thought about, but technically, they were both Egyptians, if from vastly different eras - both of them would always have a sort of kinship with this part of the world, and not even just because of their magical talismans. No…really, for both of them, this was home.

Then, of course, there was the matter of figuring out exactly where they were going to settle. Oddly, they were both drawn to the more desert areas - again, it was a matter of familiarity, even though they both hated remembering their youths. But they were also specifically looking for something that had already been built, which resulted in something like house-shopping. When they found what they were looking for, though, they both knew it right away.

And finally, it was time for fun.

~o~

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to join me?" Bakura asked Marik for the hundredth time as the moon rose and they got ready. "Just this once?"

Marik rolled his eyes. "Bakura, you know how this goes: You make the mess your way, I clean it up my way," he told his partner. "Bloodbaths are your scene, ash-bathes are my scene."

"'Ash-baths'?" Bakura repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean!" Marik snapped.

Bakura nodded. "Alright," he said. "If you really don't want to use everything that Rod has to offer, that's your call."

"Yes it is," Marik said, and he grinned. "Enjoy your feast."

"Oh, I will," Bakura snickered. He took one last glance around and added, "But is it really such a good idea to draw _this_ much attention to the spot we're going to be living in from now on?"

"Nope!" Marik replied, still grinning.

And Bakura smiled back, because he knew exactly what Marik was thinking.

Marik shooed the ancient spirit away. "Go on, do your thing so I can do mine!" he urged. "I'm only going to wait so long."

"You'd better wait until I'm back, or the next host I take will kill you in your sleep," Bakura said over his shoulder as he walked away.

In response, Marik smiled as he watched Bakura go - not because he thought it was an empty threat, but because he knew it wasn't. That was just who they were.

Bakura allowed his heart to pound, his stolen body to live and warm in expectation, as he approached the building full of people that was in their way - it was an industrial building, something like a warehouse, but with a not-insignificant staff, even at night. Killing one human a day was pleasant; going on a full-blown murderous rampage was going to be a party. Bakura's mind was oddly clear as he slithered across the sand in an ebony cloak, a black serpent in the shadows of the night. Death was silent.

One person's lifeblood was soaking the sand without even the tiniest giveaway; the red looked black in the moonlight. Bakura couldn't linger with his kills tonight, but just the sight of blood made him smile as he moved on.

Two, three, four, and everyone outside was bathing the dirt in the sap of men's limbs. The exterior cleared, Bakura allowed himself to enjoy the sight for a few moments before setting up: Entrances and exits locked and blocked, power cut. Darkness. Screams. Confusion - but not enough chaos that anyone would be able to escape alive. It was all Bakura could do to not completely lose his mind with bloodlust then and there, but he saved himself for later. It was worth it.

He slipped inside, where darkness and confusion made every human there easy prey. Half of them were dead before anyone even realized there was something more than just darkness to fear - and when the screams of terror began, Bakura stopped pretending he was a shadow and started having _real_ fun with his victims, letting his evil laughter fill the darkness.

He'd actually gathered several different blades over the course of the trip there, and at last it was time to play with them all. One knife in a man's throat, a second in his heart, and the third to slash the femoral artery in his right leg and spray his sticky life all over the other humans still running around in confusion like trapped ants. Two knives at once through another human's abdomen, crisscross style, and then some ripping with his hands to allow their guts to spill all over the floor in slimy piles. One particularly hardy set of blades used to hack open a woman's chest and allow him to rip out her still-beating heart. A heavy knife, almost arguably a machete, to hack off both of a person's hands and then let them loose, running around, spurting gore everywhere. The more blood got on those he hadn't taken yet, the greater the hysteria, until the terror was almost tangible. Bakura basked in it. This was his existence. This was his purpose. This was life!

He lost track of the creative means of slaughtering he tried out on the various people unfortunate enough to be in his and Marik's way - he'd fantasized all the way there, and come up with a lot, and he performed as many of them as there were people to perform them on. All he really knew was that, at last, he was left breathing heavily in a sea of viscera - bits and pieces and chunks and limbs of all sorts everywhere (and at no point had Bakura wasted a blade on flesh that was already dead), and gallons and gallons of blood flooding the place, nearly an inch deep. No one on the property was left alive.

He smiled, and allowed himself to fall on his back and just soak it all in. Actually bathing in blood was delicious, and he relished it for as long as he could allow himself to. He turned over onto his stomach and gathered up a pond of it in his arms, then buried his face in it. He rolled around and splashed in it like a child in mud, even moving his arms and legs, which were burning with exertion and euphoria, as though to make a gory sort of snow angel - but of course, blood didn't hold its shape like snow did.

Eventually, the scarlet liquid started to turn into goop, and Bakura sighed and stood, accepting that his fun was over. Every bit of him was soaked in a deep, sticky red, and he enjoyed the way it squelched and slipped and stuck all over him as he started working to make sure that Marik would get to enjoy his turn. Wet blood might not have been the most flammable of substances, but bodies burned well enough, as Bakura knew; he also knew that Marik had plans for how to end things, so he carefully tended to everything Marik had specifically asked him to check over.

The first thing he had to do was clear out the space that would be their home. The underground part of the area had a seal, and Bakura made sure to close it behind him, but before that, he made sure everything and everyone was out of the basement. No one had thought to hide down there, which was both fortunate and disappointing; boxes and crates and items and junk all had to come out to be destroyed with the rest, and Bakura had agreed to do all of that work in exchange for having all the kills to himself. It was still worth it.

After that, he shoved some crates around (occasionally with an added burst of force from his Millennium Ring, for the particularly huge boxes), broke out all the windows, and re-opened all the entrances and exits, and at last Bakura emerged, still panting from the slaughter. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to let loose like that. Probably a few centuries ago, during a war that his Ring managed to find its way into - he'd helped an army or two in the past, even made a name for some people in history. But to have it all to himself like this? He wasn't sure it had ever happened before at all. He ended the blackout so Marik would have an easier time setting up, then finally, reluctantly walked back to where Marik was waiting.

"You took long enough," Marik commented. "Did you have fun?"

Bakura's blood-soaked face split into an enormous grin. "More fun than I can ever remember having had before in all my lives," he replied. "I hope it's at least half as enjoyable for you as it was for me." He rolled his shoulders and stretched, still not quite ready to shut his avatar's bodily functions down yet. "I cannot remember the last time I felt this alive," he breathed.

Marik smirked at him. "Go wash off, you bloodthirsty freak," he said.

"Will you save the fireworks for me?" Bakura asked.

"Only if you hurry," Marik bantered.

"_Marik_…"

"It's going to take me a _little_ while!" Marik said defensively. "As long as you don't take longer washing off than you took getting that stuff all over you, you should be able to come back in time to blow-dry your fluffy head with the blast."

Bakura bristled slightly at the 'fluffy' comment, but didn't waste any more time and went to soak off in the stream they'd positioned themselves by.

And then it was Marik's turn to go in with his toys - all sorts of fuel and tinder, to make sure every bit of the building that was above ground and every item inside it got obliterated. With the underground portion's seal, there was no reason to not go crazy.

Except maybe for the stinking ocean of gore Bakura had left behind.

"Ra above and Osiris below," Marik muttered, putting a hand to his nose. "Death really does stink." Bakura's individual kills hadn't really done much to demonstrate how badly gore could reek. _And_ it was sticky, _and_ slippery, _and_ Marik was going to have to throw away his shoes and his pants once he was done with this mess.

But apart from that, everything was set up as perfectly as it could be for a fire show. He'd told Bakura how fire works and what needed to be where for maximum effect, and his bloodthirsty partner done an impeccable job with that much at least.

It took gallons and gallons of fuel to water down all the blood enough to drown out the stink of the one with the other, and Marik knew it was going to be a hell of a blast when that alone caught fire. The mixture of blood and fuel was oddly squishy, as though the blood was clotting around the fuel. Marik hoped everything would still burn properly - they hadn't actually experimented with this, hadn't thought to.*

With the air thus made (relatively) breathable, Marik started actually setting up everything to make sure every tiny bit of the place would be reduced to ash. He was glad he'd gotten twice as much fuel as he'd actually needed, as it turned out he _did_ need it, after everything he'd had to waste on making Bakura's mess bearable. But now: fuel, tinder, and a few extra toys in a few carefully chosen places, all to be spread carefully and evenly across the property. Marik forced himself to take his time, drawing on all the patience and meticulousness he could muster - he had one chance to make this perfect, and he wasn't going to waste it.

It got more difficult the more ground he covered, though, as his heart started pounding its way out of his chest in anticipation. The gratification of his style of destruction was very different from how Bakura's was - mostly expectation, followed by a huge burst of release all at once, rather than something to bathe in and soak up; and the expectation for this was positively choking him by the time things were ready. It took a lot of will to force himself to make sure that even the final pieces were set up perfectly. Then, he went out, still having to force himself to take enough time to properly set the fuse, such as it was.

Bakura was waiting for him at their perch, soaking wet with water now, his hair and skin white once more. "You took long enough," he taunted.

"Shut up," Marik said, smiling as he reached their spot and turned around. He took a moment to just admire this construction that was about to become their home.

"Humans tend to _build_ homes," Bakura said, and Marik knew that, once again, they were thinking along the same lines. "Very rarely is a home created with destruction."

"Well, we're about as rare as it gets," Marik said, taking out a match. His hands shook with excitement, and he had to take a breath to calm himself so he wouldn't drop or break it.

"That we are," Bakura agreed, a wicked smile on his face as he watched. Fire and explosions had always been more or less the opposite of his style, but something about the way Marik did it was thrilling in its own way. As the thought crossed his mind, he again noticed that his head was unusually clear; but he brushed the observation aside as Marik ignited a tiny ember.

That spark was just barely enough to illuminate Marik's grin, as he took one more moment to enjoy the anticipation that was suffocating him. Then, he threw it down.

One tiny spark burst into a full flame. That flame spread along the sand and dirt quickly, eating up the mixture of fuel and tinder Marik had prepared and laid out. Marik was shaking, eager to see how the blood/fuel mix would light, then the full show of destruction, then the celebration…

The trail reached the edge of the pool, and an orange-gold flame exploded in the night like a new sun, laced with yellow and a bit of green. It was dazzling, and Marik kept his eyes open and watched hungrily, not caring if it would blind him.

The orange flame raged alone for a short while. Then, more orange and yellow, joined by blue and red, exploded above it as the building itself caught fire. A heat wave hit them moments later, and it did indeed partly blow-dry Bakura's fluffy hair. Marik relished the heat, enjoying the show - with Bakura's contribution in there, it was almost a rainbow of fires, something he hadn't expected, and it was beautiful.

After another minute, tremendous claps of thunder shook the earth, one after another, as the explosives went off, smashing everything into pieces that would incinerate much more effectively. The roof fell in, delivering the last round of the show into the inferno: actual fireworks, which Marik had made sure would land upright. A few moments after that, colorful sparks shot into the air and exploded into beautiful showers of color and light and sound that filled the sky.

"Welcome home," Marik said softly, smiling.

The fire burned for a while before it started to dim, and Marik finally glanced away to look at Bakura. Bakura looked back at him. "Was that fun?" the spirit asked.

Marik grinned. "Better than I could have ever dreamed," he replied.

They smiled at each other for a minute, their faces thrown into stark relief by the firelight. Then, suddenly, Bakura placed where the emptiness in his head was coming from, and looked down at his Millennium Ring. _You can come out now,_ he thought at his host. _The party's over._

Confusingly, there was no response.

Bakura blinked. _Are you in there? Ryou!_

_Hm? Oh, yes, I'm here,_ came the gentle voice at last.

Bakura frowned. _I'm probably going to regret asking, but what could you possibly have been doing in there that had you so distracted?_

_I wasn't distracted,_ Ryou replied. _I was _trying_ to shut you out._

_You still aren't used to this, are you?_ Bakura said, amused.

_It wasn't because of the bloodbath,_ Ryou told him. _I just didn't want to have to listen to you arguing with yourself for hours. Honestly, it's bad enough that I have nothing to do but think in here - not even being able to hear myself think over the sound of your internal bickering is torture. Not that you care._

_You're right,_ Bakura said, _I don't care. That said: What the bloody hell are you talking about?_

_You don't want me to answer that question._

_Answer me!_

_You'll be angry if I do._

_I'm _always_ angry,_ Bakura pointed out.

_Angrier._

_Just bloody tell me!_ Bakura shouted, positively glowering at the piece of gold.

Ryou gave a mental sigh. _I'm tired of hearing you constantly trying to convince yourself that you're actually happy about the fact that you won't have an excuse to spend every minute of every day with Marik anymore._

_WHAT?!_

_You made me answer!_

"Bakura?" Marik asked, concerned at the look on his partner's face. "Is something wrong?"

Bakura glanced up at him. "Oh, it's just _him_," he grumbled, lifting the Ring and giving it a little shake. "Sometimes, I think he's even dumber than you are."

Marik pulled his Millennium Rod out of his belt and smiled. "Want me to get rid of him?"

Bakura smiled back. "It's tempting," he admitted, "but I think I need him to keep this body alive. I'm not completely sure - I know a body can live without a soul, I've seen it, but I'm not sure how gentle shadow magic is with the matter, and I like this body too much to risk." He smirked. "It suits me. But don't get me wrong, having a body all to myself _is_ tempting."

"Yeah," Marik said, his smile fading as he put the Rod away. "It must be so difficult not being able to spend _all_ of eternity talking to absolutely no one."

"_What_?" Bakura exclaimed. "Are you and Ryou having a bloody idiocy contest?"

_Maybe two different people saying the same thing means they might be right,_ Ryou piped up.

_Shut the bloody hell up!_ Bakura snapped.

"I'm _not_ an idiot, Bakura," Marik said seriously. "I know you've been dying to get here so you can start spending as little time with me as possible. That's the _only_ reason you wanted to get here." He scowled. "I know I'm practically an infant compared to you, but that doesn't make me a waste of space. You were human too once, you know. But you act like I should be flattered every time you even acknowledge my existence!"

"No I bloody don't!" Bakura protested.

"Could've fooled me," Marik spat. "I know I'm alive and you're not - I get it, you've made that very clear. It doesn't mean you have to be all distant, like you're the only person in the world."

"Maybe I _like_ being alone!" Bakura snapped.

"Do you?" Marik asked. "Or are you just so used to it that you don't know how to be any way else?"

"What does it bloody matter?" Bakura demanded. "Who I am is none of your business!"

"If I'm going to spend the rest of my life working with you, I'd _like_ to think it _is_ my business!" Marik countered.

Bakura's eyes widened.

Marik crossed his arms. "See?" he said. "You didn't even think of that, did you? I've signed on for _life_ here - and unlike you, I only get one. And I'm not sorry! Since teaming up with you, I've been genuinely happy for the first real time in my life. But knowing that you don't even acknowledge either of those facts kind of takes away from it."

Bakura stared at Marik. "You don't know anything, mortal," he sneered at last. "You don't know how I feel."

"Would it kill you to at least admit that you don't understand me any better?" Marik demanded. "See, that condescending 'mortal' thing is exactly what I'm talking about. You act like I don't know you when you know everything. You don't know me, either!"

"I don't _care_," Bakura corrected. "I don't _want_ to know you. It doesn't matter to me what your pathetic little life means."

"Just because my life is shorter doesn't mean it means less than yours," Marik retorted.

"_ENOUGH_!" Bakura shouted.

The word searched the space around for a place to echo from, but it found only empty desert, and slowly died in the night wind. In the distance, the fire burned low, but both men had forgotten about it completely.

Marik glared at Bakura. Bakura met his glare, trying to be cold…but his heart was pounding and he couldn't stop it, and Ryou had shut him out again, so he had only his own thoughts in his head, which went around and around, tearing at his sanity. It was maddening…He _needed_ to make this clear, the whole truth.

"My being alone has nothing to do with my immortality, Marik," he said at last, as firmly as he could. "I've _always_ been alone, and I always _will_ be. I've been alone since I was a child in ancient Egypt and watched my family burn. And it doesn't matter whether I _want_ to be alone or not - my life has branded me, to the point where no one in the entire world across the ages could ever begin to understand me, no matter how hard they might try."

"I've been alone my whole life, too," Marik told him, stepping closer. "I've always felt so, so very alone…especially after initiation - that separated me from the world forever, even if I wanted to be part of it. My own family feel like strangers. I haven't had thousands of years, but I feel the same way, Bakura! I mean-"

"-how could anyone-"

"-possibly understand my-"

"-hatred?"

Marik and Bakura blinked and stared at each other - they had spoken in perfect sync. Then, Marik smirked. "Exactly," he said.

Bakura took a shaky breath. His voice wavered as he began, "When the whole world is-"

"-torn away from you, and-"

"-everyone praises the person who did it for saving them all-"

"-you're told it's an honor to have your flesh carved up like a turkey-"

"-how could I not hate the-"

"-'good' guys, when they destroyed me-"

"-and didn't even care-"

"-didn't even bother to ask how I felt-"

"-and how could anyone ever-"

"-understand me, how much I-"

"-hate the world? I'm alone!…Exactly," Bakura echoed, his eyes wide.

How was this possible? Bakura was _im_possible, a monster, branded and Dark and forever alone - it was him against the world, always! How could this half-crazy human boy be…just like him?

A few minutes passed, as they registered that they'd somehow moved so close together that they were almost touching.

"I think…" Marik finally rasped, and he tried to clear his throat before continuing, "I think we don't have to be alone anymore."

Words failed Bakura. When he tried several times to speak and found that he couldn't, he gave up, and he reached out and pulled Marik close, using his mouth to say what he wanted to say the only way he could. And once again, Marik's mouth said the same thing.

* * *

***And neither have I, obviously, so all of that is complete BSing on my part.**

* * *

**I would like to dedicate the Yugi parts of this fic to my amazing boyfriend, Lucas - my Tea, who helped me find the Light in my soul again when my Bakura tried to snuff it out.**


	17. Soul Mates

**FYI: This chapter is going to be a montage of sorts - bits of information about the state of life between the previous chapter and the next, each illuminated by specific highlights of the interim. Most of the promised softcore thiefshipping is here, if that's what you came for, but most of it is VERY softcore, with just one less-extremely-softcore exception towards the start; in any case, if you want real action, you'd be better advised to look up LittleKuriboh's account.**

* * *

When the sun rose on the tremendous blot of ash that Marik and Bakura's territory had become, they walked in to claim it, holding hands, no longer awkward or uncertain. _Everything_ was going to be different now, and neither of them regretted it.

Bakura knew where the door was, having been there the previous night, so Marik followed his lead. The cinders were thick beneath their feet, but Bakura didn't hesitate to bend down and wipe them away when they got there, exactly on the spot. Marik smiled but didn't comment.

"Let's see what's left," Bakura said, lifting the lid.

Right away, Marik noticed something. "You got blood everywhere!" he exclaimed - for the stairs were crusted with blood that Bakura had trailed behind.

"Well, excuse me for waiting to clear the space out until _after_ everyone was dead," Bakura said pointedly.

Marik rolled his eyes. "You _have_ to be a completely bloodthirsty lunatic, don't you?" he growled.

"Yes," Bakura replied, smiling. "Yes I do. Come on."

"You already owe me new pants and shoes from last night's mess," Marik continued as they carefully walked down into the space they intended to claim.

"Oh, quit your whining, princess," Bakura snapped.

"Still a princess, am I, Your Majesty?" Marik teased. "I haven't even earned a promotion to 'queen' yet?"

"No, not yet," Bakura smirked as they reached the bottom of the stairs, "though if you want me to get you a dress, I'd be more than happy to oblige."

"Shut up." Marik looked around. There was no source of light in the area, but the sunlight illuminated enough. It wasn't a one-room space, and it was ultimately bigger than what they actually needed, but right now it was just unlit and empty. "A whole lot of darkness and nothing," he commented.

"Well, you told me to get everything out of here to be burned up with the rest of the place, so, yes," Bakura pointed out.

"It's perfect," Marik reassured him. "We just need to get our own things." He smiled wickedly. "Up for a shopping trip, thief king?"

"Always," Bakura chuckled. Then he frowned and said, "Wait, I thought you said I wasn't going to have to use your motorcycle anymore from now on?"

"Well, you don't _have_ to," Marik said tauntingly.

Bakura glared at his friend, but couldn't completely hide his smile. "I hate you."

"I hate you more," Marik replied, smiling back; "come on."

And they re-emerged to continue putting together their new home.

o~X~o

Before, when Bakura had stolen things for one or both of them, he'd operated completely alone. Now, for a number of reasons, he took the time to show Marik his process. He'd never actually taught someone the art of thievery before, and Marik was genuinely honored to learn from the king himself. He was also a remarkably fast learner, and soon, Bakura was confident enough in his partner to let him go off to steal things for them on his own.

They had of course attracted some attention with the tremendous show they'd put on, and people came for the next few days, either to investigate or because they'd worked there. Marik sent investigators away with the Millennium Rod; Bakura killed the workers who had escaped his wrath. Before long, no one bothered setting foot near their base.

Turning what was now a large underground cluster of rooms with nothing at all inside into an actual living space took work. They agreed right away that every single thing they had or used would be stolen - there would be no purchasing, no asking, no semblance of civility in any of the things they would do to create their home. They walked in Darkness together, and if a place was going to belong to them, everything in it would bear Darkness's mark, to however small a degree.

One of the things they had some decision-making to do about stealing was electricity - the original building had had its own generator, of which they could have gotten a new one, but they also had the option of taking a fair amount of time and effort to hijack power from someone else, and that was appealing for the additional thievery alone. Marik was _very_ against using fire for lighting in the interim - that was too remindful of his childhood home - so for a while they lived in the dark; as a result, they eventually decided to go with a generator. They still had to steal it, so it was good enough.

Plumbing, unfortunately, was out of the question, much to Marik's horror. There were some remnants of basic plumbing from the original building here and there, but the thoroughness of the fire had rendered it impossible to salvage (Bakura had a long, hard laugh at the irony when they realized that). They had the nearby stream, of course, which could cover their cleaning needs, and being in the middle of nowhere, privacy for other necessities wasn't too difficult to get, but Marik hated not having hot water at his disposal; Bakura didn't care, and Ryou's opinion was considered irrelevant and went unregistered.

In the end, most of the difficulty with furnishing their base was, well, the furniture. It wasn't easy to transport big things even at the best of times - stealing them was a chore. Without magic, it would have been impossible, even for Bakura. Ironically, the bulk Marik had put on digging up the Millennium Items months earlier had thinned off, and while he was still strong, he couldn't carry especially large things himself as he could have before. On top of that, most types of furniture were too big to fit through the entrance when fully assembled, and so had to be carried in in pieces, then reassembled inside - in the dark, for the most part, since it was a while before they got electricity. Between their combined strength and magic and Bakura's skills, they managed, though they had to keep their possessions to a minimum.

Marik was more or less useless with putting furniture together, though; Bakura, having lived thousands of years, knew enough about everything to take care of it on his own. In fact, with their only sources of light being either their Millennium Items or Marik's matches (which was still close enough to fire-based lighting to be a bit triggering for him), Marik's only use in the process was providing light.

"Why do you even need light to see?" Marik asked Bakura as he put together a bed. "You aren't human, as you keep going on and on about."

"I'm not, no," Bakura replied, "but I'm still relying on a human body for sensory organs - and that means using eyes. Trust me, I don't like it any more than you do. Using the Millennium Items as light sources is really quite demeaning. They deserve better…" His voice trailed off in a growl.

Marik grunted in response. He didn't have to ask to know that Bakura was referring to his family, not the Items themselves, but saying that they would probably be happy to be able to help him in any way they possibly could probably wasn't a good idea. Instead, he kept the Rod's light up as Bakura finished.

"Finally," he grumbled. "I'm _tired_…"

"Yes, how many days has it been?" Bakura asked. "You're lucky you haven't crashed your motorcycle again."

"Mm-hmm…" Marik blinked. "Wait," he said, "what about you? We…we only have the…one…" He felt his face getting hot as he realized what he was saying. "Are you…going to get another for yourself?"

"Oh, I don't need sleep as much," Bakura said dismissively, the pitch-darkness of the room hiding his amused smile. "You'll have it to yourself most of the time."

"Most of the time," Marik repeated faintly. "And the rest of the time…?"

"Is something bothering you, Marik?" Bakura asked, no longer able to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"I…" Marik felt his mind going blank, his heart pounding in his ears. They'd been too busy to do much acknowledging of where things were going since that night, and Marik wasn't sure what to think now, let alone do or say. Holding hands was fine and good, but they had only kissed that once, and…

He was startled out of his confusion by the feeling of cold hands on his - he hadn't seen Bakura moving in the dark. "Marik," the dark spirit's voice murmured, "is this…too soon?"

"N-No!" Marik exclaimed nervously. "I just…don't…"

"Shh." Ryou realized what was happening and thoroughly shut himself inside the Millennium Ring, just in time for Bakura to wrap his arms around Marik's waist and gently press his lips against Marik's - _gently_, more gently than he'd ever really been with anything, knowing the young human was scared. It was a weird feeling for him, to care that someone was scared in a caring way. But Marik was…well, he wasn't like any other person, he was like Bakura. It was almost as if he shared Bakura's soul, and anything he felt was something Bakura shared in, including fear. So Bakura was gentle, giving him time to relax. "I won't hurt you," he murmured against his partner's lips - another weird thing for him to say and mean and feel.

And Marik knew it. Bakura hurt everyone, _lived_ to hurt everyone - their souls shared that, too - but Marik knew the wicked spirit meant his words, and that meant more than the world. Marik felt his eyes slide closed, not that it made a difference in the dark, and he kissed Bakura back, putting his hands on the other's shoulders.

Bakura slid his hands up under the back of Marik's shirt, the cold a shock against his burns. It was surprising how good Bakura's too-cold hands felt on those old scars - they'd been carved into Marik years and years ago, but the evil wraith's icy caress against them now almost felt like it was wiping them away, and with them, the memory of the pain. Marik gasped at the sensation, and Bakura's mouth opened against his - a cold tongue shot out and began exploring Marik's mouth thoroughly, its owner occasionally making tiny grunts of pleasure. Marik moaned against him.

The kiss broke abruptly, and somehow, Bakura was tossing Marik's shirt aside. The embrace released, a soft _fwhump_ signified the ancient thief's black coat dropping to the floor. Those cold arms, bare now almost to the shoulders, clasped around Marik's torso, frigid skin against warm. Icy lips pressed against the underside of his jaw, in the spot right between his face and the gold bands around his neck.

Marik shivered. "You're…cold…" he managed, his own temperature rising as his living heart thudded in his chest.

"Give me a minute," Bakura murmured against the skin of his neck. Even his breath was cool, like a breeze on a hot summer day…

He pulled back a moment to take off his own shirt, leaving his upper body bare save for the Millennium Ring, which he would have to keep on. Marik gasped for air, fighting to stay standing. He only barely knew _of_ what it was they were doing, and even trying to remember what little he knew was difficult just then. When their bodies came together again, Marik couldn't help placing one hand over Bakura's chest, half-expecting the silence and stillness of the corpse that the rest of his flesh felt like - but no, a heartbeat pounded under his fingers, just as strong and wild as his own. Alive enough. _More_ than enough.

"'Kura…" Marik whimpered as Bakura's mouth pressed against his chest. "Gods, 'Kura…"

Bakura chuckled as he took hold of Marik and led him to the bed that had just been put together. He sat down, then turned around and rolled over all at once, pinning Marik underneath him against the mattress. His flesh sparked to life, everything waking inside as he moved to undress himself and Marik further.

Little icy sparks danced across Marik's skin where Bakura's hands and lips brushed against his body, as a strange sort of fire ignited deep inside him and spread through his being, setting his nerves alight. Flames rippled through his muscles, beads of sweat oozed from his flesh…It was strange, how someone so cold could make him burn like this…

"_Kura_," he groaned again. "Dear gods…Kura…please…"

The ancient spirit chuckled again, the last of their clothes discarded. "You want this, Marik?" he murmured, his lips just millimeters from Marik's face. "Are you sure you aren't too tired?"

"_Yes_!" Marik gasped. "Please, Kura…I…_please_…!"

"Then relax," Bakura whispered. "Relax…and let me show you…"

"Yes," Marik panted, "my…" Whatever else he might have said was muffled as Bakura's mouth clamped over his.

_My partner. My soul mate._

_My lover._

o~X~o

The shortened version of Bakura's name stuck after the night they consummated their relationship - it was the closest thing to a pet name either of them was comfortable with. Marik simply stopped saying 'Bakura' - and Bakura, likewise, stopped calling Marik 'mortal'. It was a weird little exchange that came naturally to both of them.

It took them a total of two weeks to get settled in. After that, they started spending the majority of their time pursuing their respective interests: bloodshed and arson. Consequently, as Bakura had once tried to convince himself he had hoped, they started spending a lot less time together. It actually turned into a situation not terribly unlike that which cohabiting human couples lived in. Regardless, they made the most of every moment they shared - whatever that happened to mean.

Months after they took over their space, Marik finally broke down and let Bakura get him a lighter. He preferred matches - they felt more pure, somehow - but the convenience of a lighter was undeniable. Bakura often teased him about going against human nature by refusing convenience, and Marik jokingly said he was giving in to get him to shut up; of course, he wasn't naïve enough to think he would, but he didn't want him to.

And there _was_ a strange sort of pleasure to being able to summon and banish a flame at will. That night found Marik lying on their couch, repeatedly lighting and extinguishing the little metal box. It was odd, how he'd never noticed how much he loved fire before he started working with Bakura…it was odd that he did at all, really, considering his own experiences with fire had driven him to Darkness and were permanently etched all over his back. But maybe that was part of it - making others burn, turning fire into a tool for Darkness, was almost therapeutic in a way. Even Bakura shared that appreciation, as they shared everything.

_Click, click. Click, click. Click, click._ Marik dozed, fantasizing about what he had planned…

At last, a thunk announced Bakura's return.

"Enjoying your new toy?" Bakura asked as he came in and saw what Marik was doing.

"Shut up," Marik replied. He noted Bakura's soaked appearance from washing off in their stream and the happy glow in his eyes and smiled. "So, how many innocent humans died tonight?"

"One," Bakura replied casually, taking off his long coat.

Marik sat up, frowning. "One?" he repeated worriedly. "Are you all right, Kura?"

Bakura gave him a very evil smirk. "I only needed one tonight," he said; "young blood is _so_ satisfying."

Marik's eyes widened. "How young are we talking?"

Bakura shrugged. "Eight, maybe nine," he replied.

"Oh, you…" Marik's lips curled into a wicked smile. Then he thought of something. "Have you ever killed a baby?"

The spirit's smile faded. "No," he grumbled. "I'd love to, but they aren't so easy to get to, normally. I can't really be bothered."

"Freak," Marik teased, chuckling.

"Pyro," Bakura countered.

"Monster."

"Pretty boy."

"Lunatic."

"Weakling."

"Fluffy."

"Oh, that does it," Bakura snarled, and he charged at Marik. Marik set his lighter aside and stood to meet him, and they tumbled to the floor. They struggled for a couple of minutes, and Marik actually had to take a hit to the side of his face before he was able to grab hold of Bakura and clamp his mouth over his. Moments later, Bakura relaxed and kissed him back, and they settled down together.

After a couple of minutes, Bakura pulled back, smiling down at Marik. "And how was your day?" he teased.

Marik grinned back. "Let me up and I'll tell you."

They pulled each other to their feet in sync, counterbalancing each other's weight. "I," Marik said once they were standing, "went out for some recon today, and I am prepared to do something special to break in my 'new toy'."

"You haven't done it already?" Bakura asked, surprised.

Marik gave him a smile that was somehow both evil and sweet. "I was waiting for you," he told him. "I thought we could do it together."

Bakura blinked, then smiled back. "I'd like that," he said. "We haven't really done anything together for a while, have we?"

"No - and I'm still not going to join you on your blood-fixes," Marik said warningly.

"You'd like it," Bakura taunted in a sing-song voice.

"_No_," Marik said sternly, crossing his arms. "Not unless you want me to burn your mess away when you're done."

"That would ruin the whole point!" Bakura exclaimed.

"Then no," Marik repeated. His expression lightened as he added, "but come with me right now and I'll share some fireworks with you."

"Now?" Bakura asked in a mock-whining voice. "But I just got back! I haven't even had a chance to dry off yet!" He pretended to scowl. "Do we have to leave right away?"

Marik's smile turned wry. "I guess not."

"Besides," Bakura purred, taking a step closer, "if you're going to make me ride your bloody motorcycle, the least you can do is make it worth my while."

"Before or after?" Marik smirked, reaching out and running his hands up Bakura's cold, damp arms.

"Hmm…How about both?" Bakura suggested nastily.

Marik blinked. "Both?" he repeated. "Wow. You should kill kids more often, Kura."

Bakura chuckled and pulled Marik's body against his. "Don't tempt me," he murmured against his lover's lips.

o~X~o

Bakura was the one who spent the most time out - Marik stayed home more often, needing both more planning for his thing than Bakura's spontaneity, and more nutrition and rest, being human. He ate whatever they could steal, usually alone, as he was one particular night when Bakura came back.

"Happy anniversary, dearest," the evil wraith said, coming up behind Marik.

Marik nearly choked, and struggled for a minute before turning to face his partner. "_What_?"

"You don't remember?" Bakura asked, feigning offense and pretending not to know that it was the use of the word 'dearest' that had startled Marik so badly. "You brought me back to this world and joined me in Darkness one year ago today."

"Really?" Marik asked, his violet eyes wide. "How do you keep track of something like that?"

Bakura shrugged. "I always know what day it is," he told Marik; "I've been around for so long…I just always know, without even trying."

"One year…" Marik said softly. "Wow…it's…" He chuckled. "It's hard to believe it's already been that long, and it's also hard to believe it hasn't been a lot longer. It feels like that happened yesterday, but like we've been doing this forever."

"It must be so annoying, having such a small perspective on time that you can get that kind of paradoxical view," Bakura teased, walking past him to sit down.

"Shut up."

Bakura laughed. "When you've walked the world as long as I have, you see some really amazing things," he said reminiscently, settling in a chair. "One thing that never ceases to amaze me about humans…is how they keep coming up with new and creative ways of getting hurt."

Marik's ears perked up at this. "Is there something in particular you're referring to?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"As it just so happens, there is," Bakura replied, his smirk oddly strained, as though he could barely contain himself.

"What is it?" Marik asked.

Bakura paused dramatically, then answered, "The internet."

Marik's jaw dropped. "You _didn't_," he gasped.

"I _did_," Bakura said in a sing-song voice, his face splitting into a tremendous grin.

"Stolen?"

"Of course!" Bakura exclaimed, offended. "What, you think I asked nicely?"

"Just checking," Marik said lightly, grinning back.

Bakura gave him a relatively warm smile. "This sort of makes up for not being able to hijack basic electricity," he said. "Besides, I figured you'd be a bit less bored if you had something to entertain you while you're doing human things here."

"Thank you," Marik said, flattered. "That was very sweet of you, Kura."

"Don't push it," Bakura warned, frowning.

"Wouldn't dream of it, partner," Marik bantered. He thought for a moment, then asked, "Does this mean you'll be here more often now?"

Bakura blinked. "It just might," he replied, a bit surprised at the realization.

Marik's smile widened. "That's worth a lot more to me than the internet," he said sincerely.

"I'll say it again: Don't push it," Bakura growled.

"Says the three-thousand-year-old evil spirit who went out of his way to steal internet access for us just so I would be a bit less bored," Marik countered.

"Shut up!" Bakura snapped.

"Make me," Marik taunted.

An evil smile crossed Bakura's face, and he stood up. "Be careful what you ask for."

o~X~o

The two villains did, of course, have to be careful to spread out their deeds. It didn't really matter if they were found - between their Millennium Items and their ruthlessness, no one would be able to do anything about them even if their base was discovered - but too much destruction in one place and none anywhere else was a waste. Whenever one of them went far enough away from their base that they would be more than a day, the other would always pretend to have some inconvenient excuse that forced them to come along - just to maintain normalcy, if nothing else. When they went out, they usually went well above and beyond their normal activities. Ryou got to ride with Marik, just like before, which was close to the only time he got to enjoy the use of his own body anymore; consequently, the timid human found himself weirdly looking forward to every time the two Dark ones went out on a field trip. The sick feeling this gave him was very amusing to Bakura.

But one day, during one of these trips - a relatively local jaunt - after they'd picked a spot to work and were scoping things out on foot, Marik happened upon a newspaper with a date on the front. He stopped in his tracks the moment he registered what he was seeing.

"Marik?" Bakura asked, concerned.

"Kura," Marik said in an odd tone of voice, "you still have your weird awareness of time, right?"

"Yes," Bakura replied hesitantly, unsure where this was going.

"How close is this date to today's date?" Marik asked, gesturing at what he saw.

Bakura took a look. "That _is_ today's date," he told his partner. "Why?"

Marik closed his eyes and said nothing.

"Marik?!" Bakura exclaimed after a minute, getting worried - a very strange, unpleasant sensation for him. He reached over and took Marik's hand. "Marik, are you all right?"

"Shut up, I'm thinking!" Marik snapped, his eyes still closed.

Bakura blinked. "What's important about today?" he asked.

Marik didn't answer. Instead, he thought for another minute, then opened his eyes and looked at his partner. "Kura," he said, his tone still indecipherable, "can you use a dead body as an avatar?"

"Um…" Bakura blinked again; it was a very unexpected question. "I'm…not sure," he answered after a minute. "I think I can, but only if it's _very_ fresh - beyond a few minutes, dead is dead, even for me."

"How _many_ minutes?" Marik pressed.

"I don't…" Bakura shook his head. He knew by now to just answer Marik's questions when they were asked, no matter how strange, but the young human was breaking his own records with these. "I haven't exactly…experimented. Thirty minutes, tops? Marik, _why_ are you asking me these things?"

A truly nasty expression crossed Marik's face. "Because I have a brilliant idea for a prank," he told Bakura.

"What's so significant about today?" Bakura demanded, bewildered.

Marik gave an evil chuckle; Bakura had never seen the boy act so wicked before. The young Egyptian pyro interlaced the fingers on the hand Bakura was holding with Bakura's cold digits. "Well, you see," he replied maliciously, "tomorrow is my sister's birthday, and I'd like to throw her a party. What do you think?"

Bakura blinked, then returned Marik's evil smile as he caught on. "I'd _love_ to," he purred.

~o~

"Happy birthday, sister."

Ishizu sighed, and forced herself to meet her older brother's eyes and smile. "Thank you," she said.

Odion knew her smile was empty. Another year with Marik out wreaking havoc someplace far away - that was all this meant to her now. He nodded and didn't push her, then let her be.

The lady Ishtar sighed as she was left alone, dropping any pretenses of happiness. _Marik_. Another year, Marik out somewhere doing horrible things. Why should she celebrate? If she could make a birthday wish, it would be to have her brother back, but that was futile.

It had been so long…she knew she needed to move on. But every time something happened to remind her of the broken state of her family - like her birthday - it was all she could do to get out of bed in the morning. She sometimes wondered if she'd ever be able to just live her life…

The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts. It was an unusual sound, almost never heard, so it was startling, and left Ishizu uneasy.

"I'll answer it," she called so Odion wouldn't bother. Anything that might distract her was welcome, even if she had an odd feeling about this…

The bell didn't ring again as she reached and opened the front door. A man wearing a scarf around his neck, whom she didn't recognize, stood waiting for her, unmoving. There was something unnerving about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Um…hello," she said to him.

"Miss Ishtar?" the man asked in a rough voice.

Ishizu blinked. "Yes."

He held out a letter. "This is for you," he told her.

"Oh…thank you," she said hesitantly, taking it and looking curiously. All the envelope said was her name, Ishizu Ishtar - there were no other markings of any kind.

The man gave an odd chuckle. "The pleasure's all mine," he said cryptically, and he turned and walked away.

The letter in her hand, Ishizu stood still and watched the man go. Something had been very disturbing about that exchange - about _him_ \- and she stared after him, racking her brain to try to figure out what it was. He reached the road, and met another man, whom she also didn't recognize. Something changed hands between the two…and then the first went limp and collapsed to the ground, and the second turned away.

Without thinking, Ishizu ran out to see if he was alright, still holding onto the letter. The man was like a ragdoll on the ground, still as death. She got down on her knees and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. "Sir?" she asked.

There was no response of any kind. She went to shake him again, when she noticed that the scarf around his neck had slipped, revealing a glimpse of…something. She unwrapped it, and revealed that the man's throat had been slashed.

She gasped and jumped back in shock. Laughter caught her attention, and she looked up to see the second man she'd watched from the doorway with his back to her, his head turned around so she could see his face…including the golden symbol glowing on his forehead.

Her heart stopped.

The man gave another laugh, then got on a motorcycle and vanished in a cloud of dust.

Ishizu sat on the ground for a minute, trying to catch her breath. When at last her heart had calmed and she didn't have to gasp for air, she remembered the letter. Without even standing, she opened the envelope and took out the card. It was a simple "Happy Birthday!" card, like you could find at any drugstore.

When she opened it, there were only five words:

_Happy birthday, my dear sister._

~o~

"This is a new low," Ryou commented disgustedly.

"Shut up," Marik snapped, using his Millennium Rod to bring the second person they'd recruited for their prank back with the Millennium Ring.

"How could you do something like this to your own sister?" Ryou pressed.

"I said, shut up," Marik repeated.

The pale young man shook his head. "You can't tell me you don't feel even a _little_ bad," he said. "I know you still care about her, no matter what else you've chosen to do with your life."

"What part of 'shut up' do you not understand?" Marik asked, getting annoyed. "You should just be glad you get to have your body to yourself for a little while while Kura gives her her card."

"You know she'll be horrified," Ryou went on. "You'll be lucky if you don't give her a bloody heart attack."

"I'm not listening," Marik said in a mocking, sing-song voice.

Ryou grumbled. "Fine," he said. "Keep pretending you don't care. You and him have that in common, too."

"I will," Marik spat.

And at last, Ryou shut up.

Marik's mind-slave returned on his motorcycle a couple of minutes later and tossed him the Millennium Ring, which Marik then returned to Ryou. Ryou glared, but put it on, and gave up his body again. Bakura was laughing before he even finished taking over.

"That was priceless!" he howled. "I wish you could have seen it yourself!"

"Me too," Marik said, smiling. "Please, tell me exactly how it went."

Bakura gave Marik as many details as he could, and Marik too was howling with laughter by the time he was done.

"Perfect," he choked through his mirth. "That could not have gone better, that's amazing!"

"I still say you should have written everything in blood," Bakura said, but he was grinning as he grabbed Marik's now-useless mind-slave and dragged him a safe distance away. "Speaking of blood," he added, taking out the knife he'd packed and cutting the man's throat, "one more for me."

"One more for you," Marik agreed as gore splattered on the ground; "but really, you deserve another five for this, Kura."

"May I?" Bakura asked, fire in his brown eyes.

"I don't think it would be fair not to have our own celebration," Marik said, getting on his motorcycle. "Climb on, let's go hunting! I promise we'll save the fireworks for after you've had another five at least."

"You're so sweet," Bakura said mockingly, climbing on behind him.

o~X~o

Marik needed sleep every night, while Bakura needed to let Ryou's body rest only rarely. Even when the ancient spirit didn't need to, though, he always joined Marik in bed.

It was late one night - or perhaps it was early one morning; underground, it was impossible to pinpoint - and they lay in bed together, their bodies intertwined. Bakura was able to avoid working up body heat no matter how passionate they got, so he felt like ice against Marik's sweaty skin; it was a sensation the living human had come to appreciate, as Bakura traced one frigid finger along the old burns on his back - the cold against them never ceased to be utterly blissful.

The Millennium Ring was pressed between them, confused about what temperature to be. Marik felt it, knowing that there was someone else inside, and sighed.

"I wish we didn't have to share this with Ryou," he told Bakura.

"Me too," Bakura murmured, "but he's actually been rather polite about giving us privacy."

"See, I wouldn't even know that," Marik said, shifting. It was pitch black, but somehow he knew where to find Bakura's cold, brown eyes. "This body I'm holding right now, it isn't even really you! I wish…I wish I could just be with _you_, Kura."

"Hmm…" Bakura paused in tracing Marik's scars. This wasn't something he'd actually given any thought to before - he was so used to not having his own unique vessel of flesh, he no longer even noticed the difference.

After a minute, Marik chuckled. "I wish I could be a disembodied spirit, too," he told his lover; "then our souls could touch and we could be together in the aether."

That got a laugh out of Bakura. "I don't think it works that way," he told his human partner.

"But it would be fun to find out!"

Bakura gave a noncommittal grunt and resumed tracing his finger along the lines in Marik's back. "I think this is close enough," he said at last. "This body, especially, feels almost like my own."

"Have you been with other people in other hosts?" Marik asked.

The dark wraith didn't answer.

Marik sighed. "I really am young," he said sadly. "You've been so patient, but…"

"Marik." Bakura wrapped his icy arms around Marik's warm, living figure and pulled it close, brushing his lips against those still backed by heartbeat. "I may have three thousand years' worth of experiences more than you, but your soul has exactly what mine has. What matters is that you and I are the same. Neither flesh nor time can compare to that."

It was the closest he'd come to actually declaring his feelings, and Marik warmed with an inner fire in those sweet, cold arms. They held each other tightly and kissed, and both of them found themselves thinking that one didn't have to walk in the Light, or be dead - or, in Bakura's case, even human - to experience Heaven; for surely, no state of being could be more blissful, more heavenly, than what they had together in this moment, right here and now.

Of course, it's true that love makes fools of everyone - even ancient, immortal evil spirits preying on human hosts. For only a fool could have believed that what they had now might last…


	18. Eternity

Ishizu was up late the night of the third anniversary - she couldn't have slept if she'd tried. It had been so long since the nightmare had begun. _Three_ _years_…Ishizu couldn't believe her brother had been running around with the evil spirit of the Millennium Ring for a whole three years - and her still helpless to do anything about it. The only positive thing was that they still hadn't come for her and Odion, or for the other Millennium Items - except for the prank on her birthday, which hadn't really involved even seeing them - and really, that wasn't a positive at all, for it only made her more powerless.

She wandered the building aimlessly with her broken heart, unable to go home, almost afraid of the dawn. All she could think about was her younger brother. What haunted her wasn't just the monster he'd become, or even the darker alter ego of his that still seemed to be gone from the world - the ghost that truly tormented her was of the sweet boy he'd been when they were still very young. She wanted that person back. 'What if?'s tortured her, mostly the 'What if?' of what might have happened if their father had just let Odion take on the family duty. So much pain and chaos and loss, all because one man had been blinded by tradition…

A sound from the basement startled her from her thoughts. Instantly, a spike of paranoia shot through her. Had Marik come for the other Items? Or worse, the spirit of the Ring?

She fled downstairs, to the dark and dusty underground room full of large crates stacked on the floor and smaller boxes sitting on shelves. Nothing appeared to be out of place at first glance, but Ishizu went around a few piles to make sure there was nothing amiss that she couldn't see from the foot of the stairs. Her blue eyes darted over everything quickly as she walked - she knew the space by heart, so anything wrong would have jumped out. When she got to the back and was satisfied that nothing had shifted or been taken, she sighed, deciding it must have been her imagination, and turned to go.

Then, a soft voice broke the musty stillness.

"Sister."

Ishizu jumped in surprise and turned back around, coming face to face with her fallen brother.

"Marik…" she gasped. "Wh…Why are you…?"

Marik's violet eyes gazed into hers, shining with some sort of emotion that caused her voice to die in her throat. Without a word, he held out the Millennium Rod…and tossed it at her feet. The gold gave a mighty clang as it hit the floor, but Marik didn't break eye contact with his sister. He seemed almost like he was trying to tell her something without words, but she couldn't begin to guess at what it might be.

There was silence for a minute. Finally, Marik spoke.

"I want you to take me home, Ishizu," he said softly, his voice wavering.

Ishizu's heart pounded, her mind racing as she tried to process the situation. "Marik, I…I can't do that, you know I can't," she managed, equally softly.

Marik shook his head. "No," he said, "I mean I want you to take me _home_. Like you did that day, when we were kids. Only this time, I really want to go."

"That day…When I took you to the village?" Ishizu asked. "Do you mean…?"

"Please," Marik said, and his voice was definitely cracking now. "Please, put me back where I belong. Lock me underground, cover the skylight, and let me rot down there, cold and alone, like I was always supposed to." He shook his head. "I wish you'd never shown me the outside world," he told her. "At the time, it was the first time in my life I'd ever felt happy, but now I know that happiness is the worst thing to have."

Ishizu's broken heart beat painfully in her chest, strained to hear her brother talking like this. "Marik…what happened?" she asked. "Why are you saying these things?"

Her younger brother gave a chuckle that could not possibly have held less humor. "I've seen too much," he answered. "I saw too much that day, and now I've seen so much that I'm absolutely worthless. The least I can do is return to where my ancestors lived and died, and waste away in the dark…"

Ishizu took a step forward. "Marik, stop it!" she cried. "Don't talk like this!"

"And you _still_ love me," Marik said, his voice somehow both amused and hollow. "Even after that awful prank I pulled on you on your birthday, you still love me. What do I have to do before you'll finally stop loving me?"

"Marik, I will _never_ stop loving you," Ishizu told him firmly. "You're my brother."

Marik shook his head sadly. "You're a far better sister than I ever deserved," he said.

"Marik, what happened?!" Ishizu exclaimed. "Talk to me! Please, my brother…please talk to me."

He gave another empty chuckle. "You aren't even questioning whether I'm tricking you or not," he said, still amused in a sort of empty, soulless way. "How do you know I'm not just pretending to be like this?"

Ishizu's face softened. "Marik, I know you," she told him. "I know you're not this good of an actor. Without the Millennium Rod, you're really a bad liar."

For some reason, this caused Marik to shake his head with something like anger. "_Now_," he growled, exasperated. "_Now_ you act like you understand even the tiniest thing about me. Not before I left, no - before, you might as well have been a complete stranger."

"Marik, I tried to make you feel at home!" Ishizu exclaimed. "I tried so hard to let you know that we loved you, that you were our brother and-"

"Exactly!" Marik snapped. "You never once acted like you judged me for my choices even a little bit! All you ever did was shower me with love and acceptance!" He shook his head again. "You have no idea how alone I felt with you and Odion always going out of your way to make me feel like family," he said angrily. "Always so good and loving and caring - I felt like an alien! You never understood me, sister…"

"Then tell me!" Ishizu cried. "_Help_ me understand, brother! Please, tell me…tell me what happened, why you're here. _Talk_ to me!"

But Marik's anger faded back into nothingness, apparently from being reminded of whatever it was that had made him come to her tonight. "Will you take me home?" he asked instead, still with that strange desperation in his voice. "I know you can get me there. You're…" he smiled, making the expression still look like a frown. "…_resourceful_." His shoulders slumped, all lingering anger and other emotion draining out of his body, and Ishizu recognized a soul utterly broken and defeated. "Please," he whispered, "I beg you…take me home."

Ishizu used all of her self-control to pull herself together, and thought for a minute. "If I promise that I will, will you tell me why?" she asked at last.

Marik's violet eyes met hers again, tears barely holding at the edges of his eyelids. "Please…" he whispered.

"Tell me," Ishizu said. "If you really feel that bad for the things you've done, then give me this now. Please, my brother."

Marik's eyes slid shut and he bowed his head, his tears finally tracking down his face.

"All I ever wanted was to be free," he began, so softly Ishizu could barely hear him. "That was my first wish. I thought it would make me happy. And when at last I was, it _did_ make me happy…for a while. But it didn't last.

"I thought a life of crime, of controlling mind slaves and stealing from people - a life in which I had power, where people did what I said - would make me happy. And when at last I had that, it _did_ make me happy…for a while. But that didn't last either. It wasn't even as strong as the happiness freedom had brought me, my conflict with you and the Pharaoh considered.

"When the final confrontation with the Pharaoh came, I thought being free of my darker self would make me happy. And when he was banished to the Shadow Realm, it _did_ make me happy…for a while. That, also, didn't last.

"After that, I thought being with you and Odion and living a peaceful life might make me happy. It didn't really…it made me content at best, and I always felt separate from you two, like I didn't belong in your world.

"After the Pharaoh passed on, I thought maybe digging up the Millennium Items and having magic back in my life might make me happy. When I found them, it was a triumph, but not real happiness.

"And then, when I brought Bakura back, returned his soul to the Millennium Ring with Bakura Ryou's body as an avatar, and he offered me a life in the Darkness, I accepted, thinking that might make me happy. And it did."

Ishizu blinked.

"…It _did_, Ishizu," Marik sighed. "Working by Bakura's side, wreaking havoc, destroying at will, setting the world on fire…I felt like I was finally doing what I was meant to. I never realized how much I loved fire before I met him, but burning things and people made me feel alive. I had my place in the world, a place where I truly belonged. I was truly happy."

Ishizu let her tears flow as freely as those her brother shed, but she didn't interrupt.

Marik took a breath. "But after a while," he said, "I started to wonder what exactly it was about a life in the Darkness that made me so happy - whether it was the things I was doing, or…the person I was doing them with."

And with that, Ishizu's heart found one more way in which to break. "Oh…" she breathed. "Oh, Marik…" Her voice choked as she forced back a sob. This had become the last thing she'd thought she would ever have to talk to Marik about. And yet, here he was…_heartbroken_.

"He started to wonder about the same time as me," Marik continued, and Ishizu's eyes doubled in size at this additional curve-ball. Marik didn't have to look to know the expression on his sister's face, and he gave another laugh completely empty of any mirth. "I know, right? A three-thousand-year-old angry spirit whose soul was partially merged with Zorc himself, and an angry young Egyptian criminal with no idea who he was. A match made in Hell if ever there was one. And yet…we…we had something, Ishizu. We really did."

"Did…Did you-?"

"Yes," Marik answered, knowing what she would wonder, and even in his state, he smiled at the memory. "We had everything, sister. Bakura and I…we had the world in each other…" His voice cracked, and he cut off.

A heavy silence stretched between them. When Ishizu realized Marik wouldn't continue of his own free will, she forced herself to ask again: "What happened?"

Marik snorted. "I got careless," he told her. "Took a stupid risk, got hurt - really, I was lucky to escape with my life." He sighed painfully. "And that was exactly the problem."

"Problem?" Ishizu managed.

Marik opened his eyes again, still crying. "I'm human, sister," he told her sorrowfully. "I'm just a human. Eventually I'll get old and weak and die…I have a few decades, but for someone like Bakura, that's hardly a blink of an eye. And he won't ever die. Even if Ryou got killed, Bakura would live on in the Millennium Ring, eventually find a new host, and continue championing Darkness. He'll never age, never tire, never _end_, sister! He's immortal, invincible."

"And…that bothered you?" Ishizu guessed.

Marik shook his head. "No. I didn't really care, still don't. I…" Again, his voice cracked, and it took him a few seconds to force the words out of his mouth, to confess…

"…I love him." He swallowed, holding back even more tears at admitting how he felt.

How was it possible for Ishizu's heart to keep breaking? There should have been nothing left to break, but somehow, the fragments kept shattering into tinier and tinier pieces.

"And I'd stay with him my whole life," Marik continued after a few moments. "I don't care that I'd get old and die while he'd keep his strength and vitality even as Ryou's body ages. I don't care that he'd find a new host that was young and strong and start the cycle again, while I'd be trapped in my own flesh as it wasted away. I don't care…" He sniffed. "But he does."

"Why?" Ishizu asked. As much as she ached for her brother, what he was saying didn't add up.

Marik gave another joyless laugh.

~X~

_"You bloody idiot," Bakura growled, dragging Marik away from the fire._

_"I'm fine," Marik insisted, even as he tried and failed to get his footing. "I'm fine."_

_"The bloody hell you are!" Bakura snapped, roughly throwing him to the ground. Marik hadn't seen him so angry in a long time…maybe ever._

_He gritted his teeth and forced himself to sit up. "I'll be okay," he told Bakura. "I've dealt with worse pain."_

_"You got hit on the head with a burning log," Bakura spat. "If I hadn't been with you this time to drag you out, you would have been buried in there!"_

_"But you were, and you did," Marik argued, shakily getting to his feet. The world spun slightly, but he managed to stay upright; the pain in his skull was already fading. "It was just a bump," he said. "Why are you so angry?"_

_"_Why_?!" Bakura roared. "Why am I so angry?! Because you nearly _died_, Marik! _Died_!"_

_"But I didn't!" Marik shouted._

_"But you _will_!" Something in Bakura's expression wrenched, and Marik might almost have thought that the ancient spirit was on the verge of tears. "I saved you tonight, but what about next time? And the next time? And even if I save you every other time, I can't save you _from_ time! I…I'm going to lose you, Marik," he said, his anger fading - weird, since he was always angry, but now he just seemed sad._

_"Kura…" Marik whispered, his eyes wide. "I…I don't…"_

_Then Bakura shook his head, and he was angry again. "I could walk into that fire and burn alive like my parents did, but I'll still be here," he snarled; "you, on the other hand, won't. You're going to make me watch you die, one way or another."_

_"We've been over this!" Marik exclaimed, frustrated. "It's not my fault that I'm human and you're not - and it's not your fault, either. If it's anyone's fault, it's Atemu's."_

_"Atemu…" Bakura growled the name with such venom and hatred that Marik could almost feel it brush against his skin, cold and slimy and dark. He shivered despite the heat._

_And then Bakura's shoulders slumped, causing his ebony coat to drop and cover him completely, turning him into a black figure with a white face - the ghostly shadow he really was. "Atemu…" he whispered. "Always taking everything from me, even now."_

_Marik stepped towards his partner, his friend. "I'm right here," he said firmly. "I'll be here for a long time."_

_"A long time?" Bakura repeated, laughing scornfully. "What's a 'long time' to you? A few years? A few decades? I've walked this earth for three _millennia_, Marik! And I'll still be walking it three millennia from now, and another three millennia from then - I will lurk in the shadows for as long as the shadows exist! You? You're just a human! You're just a weak little mortal human!"_

_"That's not my fault!" Marik shouted._

_"It doesn't matter whose fault it is, or whether it's even anyone's fault at all or not," Bakura growled, shaking his head again. "I can't believe I let it get this far…"_

_The bottom dropped out of Marik's stomach. "What are you saying?" he asked faintly._

_Those cold, brown eyes he loved stared into his violet ones…not with the icy fire he'd regarded Marik with lately, but simply with a frigid, dead glare._

_"Listen well, Marik," he hissed: "Attachment and affection are for the Light. In the Darkness, there is only oneself and survival - the strong are enemies, the weak are prey. That's all! Those of us who dwell in Darkness don't get attached, don't care for others…" He looked away. "…and even if we did…if we could…how could I endure being attached to a mortal, one who will grow weak and die while I stay strong and healthy forever? Would you really force me to watch that? If I loved you, how could that cause me anything but pain? Not that I do," he added quickly, but Marik got the feeling he was telling himself that more than he was telling his lover._

_Marik's chest constricted; he knew where this was going, and it felt like he couldn't breathe. "No…" he whispered. "Please, Kura, don't…"_

_"This ends now," Bakura said with finality._

_And Marik's world - the world he'd worked so hard for and gone through so much to build - came crashing down. "No," he whimpered. "Please…"_

_Bakura turned his back and started to walk away._

_"No!" Marik lunged forward and grabbed Bakura's arm. "Don't go!"_

_Bakura swatted him away with enough force to knock him back to the ground. He gave Marik one last glare over his shoulder, the kind of glare Marik hadn't seen in such a long time._

_"Don't touch me, _mortal_," he spat, the word 'mortal' - the word he hadn't used on Marik since they'd started living together - filled with such scorn that it became an insult far worse than any other ever known to man._

~X~

"'Don't touch me, mortal,'" Marik said again, a sort of hysterical laughter creeping into his words. "That's what he said. 'Don't touch me, mortal'…"

"Marik," Ishizu said, trying to pull her brother out of that terrible night and back into the present…not that the present was much better.

Marik blinked, his beautiful violet eyes finally refocusing on his sister. "I tried to move on," he told her. "I still had fire…I thought. But burning things down alone - knowing he wasn't there, wouldn't be waiting for me at home, that it was just me - it didn't work. It didn't do anything but make the pain worse."

There was silence again for a minute.

"So you see?" he finally asked softly. "There's nothing left for me - not in this world, not in _any_ world. I've tried, sister. I've tried so hard, in so many places and so many ways, to find where I belonged…and when at last I found it, it was ripped away from me. So please…take me home, Ishizu. Lock me underground, in the world I should have stayed in my whole life - the world I never should have even wanted to leave."

It was all Ishizu could do to not sink to the floor. Her hand was clasped over her heart, as though she could hold the tiny, shredded fragments of it together. "Marik…"

"Please, sister," Marik begged softly. "You've always been so good to me…far more so than I ever deserved. Please, do this one last thing for your little brother. There's nothing left for me in this life, and that tomb is the only place I could die in peace. Please take me home."

She couldn't say no. It was painful, and wrong, and she'd be betraying a lot of people and breaking a lot of promises…but seeing her brother like this, more sad and hopeless than he'd been even on the day of his initiation…she couldn't refuse him. It would have been easier for her to drown a puppy. A puppy she'd found outside starving and weak and brought home and nursed back to health, who licked her face and brought her her shoes every morning…

"Okay," Ishizu broke down. "Okay, I'll…I'll get things set up so that we can go home."

"Really?" Marik asked, some feeble imitation of something like hope entering his eyes.

"Yes," she choked. "I promise. Just stay here and let me arrange things."

"Thank you," Marik breathed, sinking to the floor in sublime relief - and once again, Ishizu felt her pulverized heart somehow break even further.

She felt bad leaving him, even for a short while, but she had to. "Wait here," she said. It was all she could say.

~o~

Marik sat on the dirty floor, boxes all around him. He was going to go home. He hadn't really allowed himself to hope that Ishizu would grant his request, but she had, and finally…_finally_, after all this trial and confusion and pain, he was going to go home. That knowledge numbed his mind and most of the ache in his heart, and he was left hollow, nothing, an empty shell…

His eyes drifted around the room without really seeing. Then, suddenly, a small box caught his eye. He didn't know why, but he wanted to see what was in it. It called to him, as Bakura had once called to him from below a mile of rubble.

He stood up mindlessly, almost like a puppet, walked over, took the box off the shelf, and opened it. Inside were a bunch of little, misshapen chunks of gold. It took him a moment to even recognize what he was looking at, but as he studied the bits and pieces carefully, he realized he was holding the Millennium Puzzle.

A hollow laugh escaped his chest. This damn Puzzle. Fitting that he would have to see it one last time before everything ended - see it broken apart like his shattered soul. _Maybe, if I could put it together, I could put my heart back together too,_ he thought sarcastically.

…And then he thought, _Maybe I actually could._

He recalled how Bakura had told him about how the Millennium Puzzle held dominion over the forces of Light and Dark, the fabric of reality…how it was the tool that Atemu had used to curse him and seal him and Zorc in the Millennium Ring, making him immortal in the first place. He also recalled how he'd heard - he couldn't remember where - that if someone made a wish on the Millennium Puzzle and managed to assemble it, their wish would be granted.

He remembered what had happened after Bakura had told him not to touch him - the thing he hadn't been able to tell Ishizu…

~X~

_"Kura…" Marik pushed himself to his feet. Bakura turned away and kept walking._

_"Bakura!" Marik shouted._

_The ancient soul paused at the unfamiliar sound of Marik saying his full name rather than his pseudo-pet-name, but didn't look back._

_"Tell me one thing," Marik called to him: "If I could be immortal like you, would you be leaving me now?"_

_The fire behind him roared in the night uninterrupted for a few moments. Then Bakura turned back to meet his eyes and said, "It doesn't matter."_

_"It does matter!" Marik shouted._

_"No," Bakura said firmly, "it doesn't."_

_"_Just tell me_!" Marik screamed, his anguish ripping its way out of his body through his throat, dragging the end of the last word into a long wail._

_"No," Bakura said, his voice as cold as his heart, and he turned away again._

_"Don't," Marik said softly. "Don't you _dare_…walk away…"_

_He raised his hand to his side and pulled the Millennium Rod out of his belt. "Don't you walk away," he said again, louder, raising the ancient golden scepter. "Don't you dare walk away, you bastard! Turn around and answer me. Answer me _right now_!"_

_He called upon the magic of the Millennium Rod, the power to control people's minds. He expected resistance from Bakura, but he had to hear the answer, and anything to that end was worth trying._

_Bakura stumbled to a stop, then slowly turned back, his eyes wide. "You dare to use that magic on me?" he asked in a dangerous voice. "The magic born of my family's torturous deaths - you would use that against _me_?"_

_"Only if you don't answer me," Marik said, drawing on the ancient tool's magic some more._

_Bakura went noticeably rigid, but nothing else - the dark spirit was clearly fighting the Rod's power with everything he had._

_Marik poured his heart - all of his pain, his rage, his confusion, his need, his love - into the Millennium Rod, calling on all the power it held. He had never used it like this before, not with such focus and will…and something within the Rod responded to his tempestuous emotions. The Eye of Wdjat shone like a new sun, glowing bright enough to drown out the fire that was still raging behind them._

_Bakura's hands slowly clenched into fists, his eyes screwed shut, lips pulled back as he gritted his teeth and fought the ancient magic with every ounce of his will. Beads of sweat oozed from his pale forehead as his flesh awoke in response to the strain, shining like diamonds in the light of the fire and the Millennium Rod._

_"Answer me!" Marik commanded._

_"N…No…" Bakura choked._

_"Answer me!" Marik roared. "Would you leave me if I could join you in eternal life? Answer me! Tell me the truth, you bastard! _Answer me_!"_

_With that final shout, something snapped, and Bakura's eyes flew open as though his eyelids had been wrenched apart with pliers._

_"The truth?" he gasped, the words he'd tried to hold back tumbling out of his mouth all at once. "The truth is, if I could join _you_ in living nothing but a short, mortal life, I would! I would swallow the sun and tear down the sky and crush the moon between my bare hands if it meant I could live as long as you - be it one mortal lifetime, or eternity, I wouldn't care either way! I love you, Marik, you stupid, baffling fool - it's impossible, my soul is Dark in ways you can't even fathom and I relish being a monster, but I love you! Not even watching my family burn alive hurt as much as walking away from you hurts me right now! But it doesn't matter, because you're a human, and I'm not! There's no point in wishing, no point in trying to cling to this when there is no good way it can end. We're better off without each other, Marik, and I hope I never see you again!"_

_And with that, Marik's control broke, and Bakura turned and fled into the shadows of the night that were his eternal home._

_Marik sank to his knees, stunned. Hearing that Bakura loved him almost hurt worse than it would have if he'd denied that he ever cared._

~X~

One wish…

Well, why not? He had nothing left to lose, and nothing else to do while he waited for his sister.

He sat down cross-legged, right where he stood, propped the box between his legs, and reached inside. He allowed his hand to choose a piece at random, and then another. The bits of gold clinked together in his grip, and he tried to see if there was some way they would fit with each other that would make sense.

As he sat there, tinkering, he thought he could hear voices whispering in the air around him, just barely too quiet to make out. Sometimes it felt like an unseen force guided his hand as he chose puzzle pieces from the box.

And slowly, slowly…the Millennium Puzzle came together in his hands.

The voices grew louder, though still impossible to decipher. His hands moved as though they weren't even his own anymore. The small inverted pyramid began to glow, brighter and brighter with each piece that slid effortlessly into place.

Five more pieces. Four. Three, two…

The largest piece, bearing the Eye of Wdjat, was all that was left. His senses started to return as he lifted it, and his hand shook slightly as that last piece slid perfectly into its slot.

All at once, light exploded in his hands. Power unlike anything he had ever dreamed of flowed through his arms, coursing through his body, setting every nerve, every cell, every fiber of his existence on fire. He could see figures all around him - not Shadow Beasts, as had attacked Yugi when he first completed the Puzzle, but human faces, faces from thousands of years ago: Lost souls who had been sacrificed so that seven magical items of gold could be made.

The people of Kuhl-Elna.

For Bakura was their avenger. The only one of them to survive, now living forever, eternally exacting revenge for their suffering - they followed him, protected him, loved him, even if his crusade was ultimately in vain. He made sure that their sacrifice was never forgotten - and so long as they were never forgotten, they could never be lost to the shadows. He was their beacon, their touchstone, the closest thing to a source of peace they would ever have.

And now, at last, they could repay him. Now, Marik, his soul mate, his lover, would be with him forever. They could make it so.

~o~

When Ishizu came back downstairs to retrieve Marik, she was alarmed to find that he wasn't there.

"Marik?" she called softly, somehow knowing there would be no answer.

The Millennium Rod was gone from where it had been thrown, and the young man himself was nowhere to be found. Confused and worried, Ishizu started searching, looking for some clue, anything out of place…

The box holding the Millennium Puzzle was gone.

She gasped and all but leapt for the empty spot on the shelf - only to see, out of the corner of her eye, that the box was on the floor, open…and empty.

"No," Ishizu breathed. "Marik, what did you do?"

The dark, dusty basement almost seemed to mock her with its silence.

She looked around, frantically, as though hoping some miracle would appear among the crates. And then, suddenly, one did, sort of - she caught sight of the box that held the Millennium Necklace.

Her heart thudded in her chest. The Necklace had once been hers to command - and though it rejected her now, it could tell her where Marik had gone, even what would become of him. She walked over to the little crate slowly, opened it, and took out the golden amulet, cradling it reverently with both hands. She called upon its magic…and it didn't respond.

_Please,_ Ishizu begged. _I know my time has passed, that I'm no longer worthy of this power, but please - not for me, but for my brother, show me one last vision, just the one!_

Nothing.

Ishizu closed her eyes. _Please,_ she prayed. _Please…Ra, god of the sun, bringer of light and life to the world…Anubis, o judge at the gate to the afterlife, forever fair…Thoth, seeker of knowledge and truth…Isis, mother goddess, queen of magic, my namesake…Shed, protector of all those who face the treacheries of life…Ma'at, who stands for all that is right…Osiris, master of life and death eternal…Please, o gods, hear my humble plea. Help me find my brother. Let me use the power of this ancient amulet one last time, so that I can save him. I ask, not for myself, but out of love for him - though he has hurt and betrayed me, he is my blood, and I seek only to protect and help him. Please…show me where Marik is._

A glow poking through her closed lids got her attention. She opened her eyes, and saw the Millennium Necklace shining, the eye taking her in…

_…A small oasis in the desert, one she recognized and could get to from here…and Marik, standing at the edge of the trees, the Millennium Puzzle whole and hanging around his neck…calling for Bakura…running to meet him, the Puzzle glowing, glowing too brightly, something was going to-_

She returned to herself all at once, gasping at the transition. The Millennium Necklace was once again lifeless in her hands - but she had her wish, her one last vision, and she wasn't going to waste it. She set the Necklace down gently back in its box, then turned and ran, headed for the place she had been shown.

As she flew through the night, she thanked each and every one of the gods by name and dominion for answering her prayer.

~o~

"Bakura!"

Marik's cry rang out across the desert, fighting the night wind. The Millennium Rod was in his belt, and the Millennium Puzzle hung heavy around his neck, tied up by a long piece of twine he'd found elsewhere in that basement. Below him, the sand shifted and fought the steps his bare feet took; above, the moon and the stars glowed as bright as the sun; and all around him, voices without faces, faces without names, guiding him, pointing him, urging him towards his beloved.

"Bakura!" he called again.

_Closer,_ the specters told him. _He's closer. Keep going…_

"Bakura!"

_He'll hear you soon…he'll slow, if not stop, as he trudges across the desert alone…just keep going…_

"Bakura!"

_He hears you now…you'll be with him soon…_

"Bakura!"

_He stopped, he's waiting for you. You're so close…_

"Bakura!"

And then, across the sand, in the light of the moon, Marik saw a lone figure, standing still. Nearby was a small oasis - no doubt where Bakura had stopped to let Ryou's body rest before continuing on, wherever he was going.

"Bakura!" Marik's call was eager now, and he stumbled as he ran across the sand. Soon he was able to make out that head of fluffy white hair, the long black coat, the pale skin…

The figure turned, and those wicked brown eyes met Marik's violet ones. This was no mirage, no hallucination - those eyes were unique and unmistakable, even in the night. The Millennium Ring gleamed white-gold under the moon as Bakura stood as still as death - no breath, no heartbeat, no movement, not even blinking. But it was him.

"Kura," Marik called, gasping for breath as he struggled through the sand. "Wait…please…"

"I told you I didn't want to see you again," Bakura said coldly.

But Marik smiled. "Only because you're immortal and I'm not, remember?" he said.

Bakura crossed his arms. "Yes. And that's still true."

Marik finally reached the spectral figure, close enough to touch, but he kept a bit of distance for now. His smile widened. "Not for much longer."

"Marik, what the bloody hell are you…" The words died in Bakura's mouth as he registered the inverted golden pyramid hanging from Marik's neck. His brown eyes darted between Marik's eyes and the Puzzle, wide, confused, disbelieving.

Marik's face split into a full grin. "The Millennium Puzzle," he said. "The most powerful Item of all, the one Atemu used to curse you into immortality, remember? It chose me."

Bakura shook his head. "Marik, that's impossible."

"No, it's true, it did!" Marik said earnestly. "I made a wish on the pieces, and the Puzzle came together in my hands, and-"

"Stop!" Bakura shouted, though his eyes held no anger - if anything, his expression could almost have been described as fearful. But of course, Marik knew that was impossible, for Bakura feared nothing. "I've no interest in your delusions, Marik! Leave me be!"

"It's no delusion," Marik said, and he put his hands on the Puzzle and summoned its power.

Instantly, the golden artifact began to glow brightly, brighter than the moon, brighter than the Millennium Rod had the last time they had seen each other…

"What are you doing?" Bakura gasped. "Marik, stop, tell me what you're doing!"

Marik smiled. "I can be immortal now, just like you," he said. "My wish…"

"Marik, think about this!" Bakura exclaimed.

"Have you changed your mind?" Marik challenged. "Do you not want me to be able to join you in eternity anymore?"

"I…" Bakura shook his head in bewilderment, searching for words. "Of course I do," he said at last. "It's just…eternity is a long time, Marik - and once you're in, you won't be able to get out. This isn't a choice you can make hastily!"

"Hastily?" Marik repeated, the Puzzle still glowing in his hands. He laughed. "Kura, my choice to join you in a life of Darkness _might_ have been hasty. This? This is all I've been able to think about ever since you walked away from me that night. I tried to move on, and I couldn't; fire doesn't warm me anymore, it just makes me colder. I even gave up, you know - I went to my sister and begged her to take me back to that old tomb so I could curl up and die. I would have, too, if the Puzzle hadn't chosen to grant my wish."

Bakura started to protest again, when he realized the light of the Millennium Puzzle had begun to reveal insubstantial figures swirling around them: Ancient faces, ancient voices…faces and voices he recognized.

His eyes widened. "My village…" he breathed.

Marik smiled. "They guided me to you," he said. "They showed me how to solve the Puzzle, and they brought me here, to you, so that we could be together."

Bakura stared around at the specters in wonder. A few of them seemed to press closer to him, their mouths hanging open as voices he couldn't quite hear whispered out, and Marik heard them: _This is right, you can be with Marik, it's all right…_

The ancient spirit's eyes rounded and began to sting. "I…"

"Marik!"

Bakura looked over Marik's shoulder to see Ishizu running towards them - as though she already knew what was about to happen. Marik turned to look over his shoulder as well, following Bakura's gaze. When he saw his sister, he gave a mocking half-smile.

"I should have known you'd find me, sister!" he called to her. Then he turned his back to Bakura, just for a moment, so he could meet her eyes fully. "Thank you," he told her - he didn't shout, but his voice slid across the desert and straight into her ears, and she stumbled to a halt. "You were the best sister a man could ever ask for. Thank you for everything you ever did, and everything you ever tried to do. I love you, Ishizu, my dear sister…Tell Odion I love him, too. Tell him goodbye for me."

"Marik…" Her eyes had drained themselves of tears earlier that night, she had no more, but the sorrow in her blue irises still shone across the expanse of sand.

"Goodbye, sister," Marik said. Just before he turned away from her, Ishizu saw that the gods had chosen to answer another of her prayers, for the last thing she saw on his face was the smile of the brother she remembered - a young boy, whose soul was whole and happy.

Then he turned back to Bakura. "It's time."

"Marik…are you sure?" Bakura asked. "I know what you're going to do. It won't be…It won't be like it is now. We won't be able to touch each other, unless we both find willing hosts. We might get separated, and we'd have no way of getting to each other again without help - you won't even have any means of figuring out where I am!"

"I know," Marik said. "I don't care. Even being with you every now and then for the rest of eternity is better than living or dying without you at all."

Bakura had never cried, not in three thousand years. But somehow, this child - this stupid, strange, half-crazy child, with his wide violet eyes and his beautiful face - reached into his soul with one gaze, one breath, and make him feel that sensation he'd seen in so many but never felt himself. His eyes stung, as though he had let them get too dry - but they weren't dry, they were wet, they were flooding, until a few drops of liquid slid down his cheeks…

Marik took a step closer. "I love you," he said.

"I love you," Bakura replied.

Their bodies came together, their mouths met - one last kiss in this life, to remember, to treasure, no matter what might come in the future.

Between them, the Millennium Puzzle shone, brighter and brighter, until its light enveloped both young men, shining brighter than a piece of the sun come to Earth. Ishizu didn't want to look away, but it began to burn, and she involuntarily raised her hands to try to shield her eyes from the dazzling spectacle. It did no good - the light was impossible, inconceivable, the air itself began to twist from the heatless fire that was consuming the two boys who walked in Darkness…

A tremendous gust of wind exploded out from the blinding display, nearly knocking Ishizu over. She still tried to see what was happening, but there was light and sand and her eyes just couldn't take it.

It seemed like an eternity before the wind and light at last began to die. But, slowly, it did, and as the moon set and the sun poked its first rays over the horizon, all that was left of the two young men was one, white-haired and pale, and two golden objects in the sand.

Bakura dropped to his knees. After a moment, he reached out and picked up the Millennium Rod in one hand and the Millennium Puzzle in the other. He looked between them once, then smiled at the Rod and set the Puzzle back down in the sand. Suddenly, without warning, he raised the Rod and brought it crashing down on the Puzzle, breaking it apart again.

Then, Bakura stood, cradling the Millennium Rod in his arms, against the Ring around his neck. He brought his face close to the top, and Ishizu managed to catch a glimpse of his lips moving but couldn't guess at what he might have said. Then he turned to go.

"Bakura!" she finally managed to shout.

Bakura stopped, then turned back to the beautiful Egyptian maiden. He looked at her with his evil brown eyes, but said nothing.

"Where's my brother?!" she cried.

Incredibly, he smiled, then hefted the Millennium Rod. And then, he turned and walked away, without any further explanation.

He wouldn't be lonely anymore. Marik's soul, like his, would walk this Earth forever - hopefully, _with_ his, as much as possible.

A match made in Hell. Now, and for all eternity.

~THE END~


	19. Forever

**The end of the last chapter said "THE END" - and it was - but it occurred to me that Marik finding Bakura in the desert like he did seemed more than slightly random, so I decided to retell the chapter's story from Bakura's point of view. This starts right after the end of that second flashback Marik had. BE WARNED: There is some pretty dark gore in this chapter, as there usually is with bits about Bakura going solo.**

* * *

The darkness swallowed Bakura as he fled from his lover. He half-feared the boy would pursue him with the Millennium Rod, but no one followed his movement, and soon enough, he was alone again.

Free. He was finally breaking free of that buffoon, of any sort of binding or obligation. He had nothing to hold him back, no matter what.

He was also alone again.

_I was _always_ alone,_ he thought. _I made do without Marik before, I don't need him. Darkness is solitude._

This was what he tried to tell himself as he forced his stolen vessel of flesh to keep running away, away from the fire and the one who had ignited it. He fought his heart's desire to beat, his lungs' yearning to gasp against the constriction that tightened his chest. Odd, that - how the situation led him to want to breathe just so he could experience the struggle to do so. And the pain…the pain was impossible to push down. He felt as though a piece of his very being had been ripped away from him, and every step he took now brought him further and further away from it…

He'd heard of this sensation among humans throughout the millennia, even experienced it once on the night of the massacre at Kuhl-Elna: _Heartbreak_. He felt it vividly, regardless of his body's function - he didn't need his heart to beat to feel it, for it was not a sensation restricted to the flesh.

_But I have no choice!_ he thought angrily. _If I don't leave now, I'll only be delaying the inevitable! Everyone dies - everyone except me - and sooner or later, Marik will be buried in the sands of time._ He'd tried to ignore that fact, to be with Marik without paying any mind to the future, but the pyro's idiocy that night had forced him to acknowledge it.

So he ran. He ran, losing himself in the darkness of the night where he dwelt, as though it could hide him from the agony of being torn away from his soul mate.

~o~

Bakura ran and ran until dawn, with no thought to where he might be going - just so long as it was away from Marik, it didn't matter. When day came, he found himself in a small town. It still felt strange to see relatively modern civilization among the sands of Egypt; but right now, it was useful, because he was tired. His exhaustion wasn't from physical exertion, from running, it was just from…_everything_. His soul needed to rest after being ripped apart the previous night - and Ryou's flesh was a bit overdue for a living session as well. He needed to eat and hydrate, and then he _desperately_ needed to sleep.

He walked into the nearest inn with confidence, waiting for Marik to take control of the receptionist.

And then he remembered.

_Oh, bollocks,_ he thought. _What am I supposed to-?_

He shook his head. He was the king of thieves! He didn't need mind control - any random passing human was a walking ATM. He didn't need magic, didn't need Marik. _It's even more fortunate that I left than I thought,_ he mused. _Look at me, all but dependent on someone else's help. Who knows how helpless and useless I might have become if I'd stayed with Marik for even another year!_

The dark spirit stepped outside for a few moments to steal some cash, then returned and rented a room for the day - under a false name, just in case Marik came looking for him. By the time he got to his room, he was practically dragging Ryou's mortal body across the floor. He was _so_ tired…

He collapsed on the cheap little bed without even taking off his coat. His muscles burned with exertion, and he closed his eyes and allowed himself a few moments to enjoy that blissful sensation of a body relaxing and preparing to sleep after a long while of being at work. _I'm too tired for nutrition right now,_ he thought; _I'll eat after I've slept._

Bakura lay still and waited…but sleep didn't come. It felt as though his mind and body alike were screaming for rest, as though they should have shut down the moment they were given the chance to do so, but something wasn't right. It didn't feel as though he was actually in a position that allowed for bodily rest - he felt uncomfortable somehow, uncomfortably…_cold_.

And then he realized the problem: He was missing the sensation of Marik's warm, living body intertwined with his own, of running his fingers along the raised lines in Marik's hot flesh…

_Bloody hell!_ he thought, frustrated. _Am I really _this_ dependent on that weak little mortal after just three years?! I've gone soft…_

_There's nothing wrong with needing someone else,_ said an annoyingly gentle voice.

_Shut up!_ Bakura snapped at Ryou. _I'm not human, I don't need your human advice or your human pity or-!_

_You're human enough to be in love,_ Ryou pointed out. _And there's nothing wrong with it. I actually kind of envy you - I'll probably never get to experience love myself, thanks to you. Just go back for him! You can find him no matter where he might have gone, the Ring can point you to his Rod no matter how far away he is._

_I can't!_ Bakura snarled. _If I don't end this now, life will end it for me later! It's better to put an end to this nonsense _now_, on my own terms._

_It's not nonsense,_ Ryou sniffed. _Everyone wants love, and even those of us who do live and eventually die cling to it when we find it. You should hold onto him for as long as you can, enjoy every moment with him life can give you._

_Why do you even care?_ Bakura demanded.

Ryou was silent for a minute, his thoughts private as he considered the question. _I'm going to spend the rest of my life - my body's life - with you controlling me,_ he answered at last. _I'll never have my body to myself again, and you'll use it to hurt and kill people for as long as I live. All I can do is cherish the few moments you let me out of this cursed Ring._

_And?_

_And…well, sharing a body with you is…_slightly_ less unpleasant when you're happy._ The boy gave a mental shudder. _Well, when you're happy for some reason that doesn't involve hurting or killing people, at least._

_There _is_ no other reason,_ Bakura said smugly. _To hurt and kill is my purpose. Feeling fresh human blood run through my fingers and tasting the tears of my victims' loved ones are the only sensations that bring me joy._

_Apart from being with Marik,_ Ryou said pointedly. _Being with Marik makes you happy, too. And it's a much more pleasant sort of happiness, at least for me. The way you feel when you're around him…_almost_ makes me feel like being prey to a mind parasite isn't such a completely awful thing - like maybe there's some good to be had for it. It makes me feel better about everything._

_Do you ever watch us?_ Bakura asked, a frown tugging slightly at his lips.

_No!_ Ryou exclaimed. _Absolutely not! That's horrible, how could you even wonder that? Being with him is something you should have to yourself! I'll never experience anything like it, but living it vicariously through your affections would be much worse than just never living it at all._

_You humans and your stupid bloody morals,_ Bakura thought amusedly.

_Oh, just get up and go back for him!_ Ryou shouted. _You know he'll forgive you-_

_I. Can't._ Bakura told him adamantly. _I can't go back. I can't be with him anymore. Maybe if I was human, I'd cling to every moment we have left together, as you say - but I'm not, I'm immortal, and…the fewer memories of him I have to torment me in the centuries to come, the easier existence will be for me._

It was the most personal feeling he'd ever acknowledged to Ryou, and the human couldn't help but wonder if they might somehow be able to be something akin to friends someday, despite his loathing for the ancient thief's pastimes. In any case, arguing with Ryou pushed Bakura's exhaustion just that little bit further so that it didn't matter that he was sleeping alone - everything shut down, and he sank into the void's embrace with tremendous relief.

~o~

Waking as the moon rose was oddly disorienting. Bakura had gotten used to sleeping at night when he allowed Ryou's body to rest, because that was when Marik slept, and they did it together. Even in the dark, though, as Bakura registered that Marik wasn't in bed with him, his first thought was that his partner was in the bathroom grooming himself, as he spent such an ungodly amount of time doing. It took him a few minutes to remember that Marik simply wasn't there.

Then the previous night's memories came crashing down all at once, and Bakura shuddered at their force before once again feeling that sensation of heartbreak start to crush his chest - the feeling of being broken, incomplete, like his soul had been torn in two and one half had been tossed to the wind. He forced himself up, struggling as though he was lifting twice his own weight. He was no longer fatigued in body or mind, but he was still hurting, hurting _so_ much…

_I need blood,_ he thought. Lots_ of blood - _young_ blood. Maybe a few dead children before dawn will make me feel better._

_It won't,_ Ryou told him readily.

_Shut up._ Bakura stood and went to the bathroom to get some water - his flesh was getting dehydrated. He didn't have the time or patience to hunt down food just now, so water would have to suffice as far as attending his host's needs went.

Then he left the inn, fading into the night. He really did love the nighttime - the silence, the darkness, the stillness, the foreboding feeling that made humans glance over their shoulders as they walked. Children weren't outside as much after dark, but there were always some few who attempted to defy their fear of the darkness and their parents' worries - those who had parents, at least. It was usually the less-guarded children who were outside past sunset…and Bakura didn't want those right now. He needed something more.

Despite what he was, the evil spirit didn't usually invade homes to kill - the easier prey were his preferred sustenance. Tonight, though, violating and destroying the illusion of safety houses provided was especially appealing, and Bakura searched for families asleep in their beds. He could enter any building without making even the slightest creak, as though he were literally one with the shadows, and he made full use of all his skills.

It wasn't long before Bakura came upon a boy sleeping in a small bed, his sheets printed with silly pictures, his room filled with toys and colors that were washed out by shadows and moonlight. Such a sweet, peaceful face - the face of one untouched by the cruelties of life. It was rare for Bakura to even consider the fact that that had been him, once - too much time, too much twisting and reforming of his soul, had corrupted him for the young boy who had once slept peacefully in Kuhl-Elna to hold even the tiniest trace of existence now. The sight of this child was a glimmer of light in the night, a soul pure and good and innocent…and his to destroy.

Smiling, Bakura took out a knife, sized up his target, then plunged it into the young boy's arm - he wanted to hear the child scream, wanted his parents to hear him scream, so that they would come running and see what had invaded their sanctuary in the night. And scream the child did, a loud, ear-splitting shriek that ripped through the silence before he was even fully awake. Music to Bakura's ears…

…but not as pleasant as it should have been.

Bakura's smile dimmed. Something felt off. He couldn't imagine what - this was a perfect victim, a perfect kill - but it didn't make him feel as though his heart was soaring with elation like it should have.

He waited for the parents to come running, which they did moments later. He turned to see their faces, to give them full view of the monster who had violated their home. He knew that with his white skin and hair, and especially with his ebony coat and dark eyes, he truly looked like the monster he was in the faint moonlight. His victim was crying now, wailing in agony, the knife still stuck through his tender little arm; Bakura withdrew it, letting the adults who stood frozen with horror see their child's blood dripping from his blade.

Then, Bakura grabbed the child by the back of his pajama shirt, lifted him so that his parents could see his face, pressed his knife to the soft young throat, and cut. The boy's scream gurgled as gore spurted across the room, splashing the colorful wallpaper and the toys and the adults who were his audience. Bakura let some of it pour into his hands and run through his fingers, grinning now as the fresh, warm human blood flowed across his skin.

The parents screamed, and Bakura laughed, dropping the remains of the dead child to the floor. He let his laughter fill the broken house, interweaving with the cries to create a beautiful melody of evil. He relished the sound for a few moments, then jumped out through the window and vanished into the shadows.

It had been glorious, a work of malevolent art…but as wonderful as it had been, he felt oddly empty now. Scratch that - he'd felt oddly empty the whole time. Something was just lacking. It couldn't have been Marik - Marik never even joined him on his 'blood fixes', as the pyro had termed them. And yet…he wasn't satisfied, wasn't even _close_ to satisfied. In fact, he felt no better than he had beforehand.

_Maybe another will do it for me,_ he thought. _Younger, even…maybe a baby. Yes, a baby. I've never taken one of those before…_

_It won't work,_ said that annoying voice.

_Shut up._

Bakura slithered through the darkness. The blood of his child victim started to coagulate on his hands…he hadn't really let blood stay on him this long in a while - normally, he washed off shortly after he was done, so that Marik wouldn't whine about bloodstains. But Marik wasn't in his life anymore…

_Don't think about it,_ he told himself. _Focus. Focus on the hunt, on murder and death and blood and pain. It's the meaning of your existence._

So why didn't it excite him as much as it used to?

_Because you miss Marik,_ Ryou told him.

_I said, shut up!_ Bakura snarled.

_It doesn't matter who or what you kill tonight, you're still going to miss Marik,_ Ryou continued, ignoring the evil wraith who controlled his body. _You might as well give up and go find him - nothing will feel good until you do, no matter how far out of your way you might go._

_What part of 'shut up' do you not understand?_ Bakura demanded, stopping in a dark alley to focus on the argument.

_Marik asked me the same thing when I tried to make him acknowledge that he felt bad about playing that awful prank on his sister,_ Ryou reminisced.

_Maybe two different people saying the same thing means they might be right,_ Bakura retorted.

The gentle human gave a mental sigh but recognized his own words and conceded, leaving Bakura to his own devices once more.

Bakura continued haunting the small town, his ears on the alert for the sound of what he was after. Babies woke up and wailed in the middle of the night all the time, it wasn't uncommon for him to hear several when he wandered the darkness searching for humans to kill - and tonight, he was finally going to silence one of them. He really had never killed a baby before, simply because they were so much more trouble to get to than any other sort of prey, though he'd always wanted to. The idea of taking away a human's chance at life before it could even begin to experience it always made him shiver with excitement…

…but not tonight.

_Oh, Zorc help me!_ he thought, frustrated. He gritted his teeth. _I am going to do this, and I am going to enjoy it,_ he told himself stubbornly.

_You won't._

_Shut the bloody hell up!_ Bakura snarled, and for once, Ryou obeyed.

His host silenced, Bakura refocused on what he was going to do. An infant, having barely even taken a few breaths - a human small enough to be carried in one hand - destroyed, lifeblood pouring out, going still…

_There_. At last, Bakura felt a tingle run down his spine at the thought - not as strong as it should have been, but it was there. And no sooner did he manage this than he heard what he'd been waiting for: the cry of a baby waking up in the middle of the night.

He swiveled in the direction the sound came from and stalked towards it with total focus. Bloodlust filled his mind, drowning out thought, as he closed in on his prey. He scaled the wall of the house like a spider, his black coat mostly shrouding him except for his white hair, and waited, still as death, under the windowsill of the room from which the crying came. This was the part that had kept him from doing this before - hanging batlike beneath a window, waiting to have his prey to himself. Physical exertion wasn't a problem, but he felt exposed like this - though of course, no human would expect to see a person sticking to the wall like an insect; their eyes would probably tell them it was just a large, oddly-dark shadow topped by an oddly large gleam of moonlight. But soon enough, the baby's parent or parents came and quieted it, then eventually left again, and he was alone to feed.

The ancient monster climbed in the window, which the inhabitants had foolishly left open, and slipped inside the house without a whisper of sound. He took a moment to debate whether or not to make the child cry before killing it - to make its parents come running, or be left alone with his kill for a while. One show tonight was enough, he decided - this would be cold and silent, as he was.

Many knives were hidden in and under his coat so that he would never be unprepared, and he chose a large one, the largest he had on him. Then, he crept over to the crib and looked inside. It was such a tiny, tiny creature sleeping there - it barely even looked like a human. It wasn't really, not yet - it needed years of growth before it would actually become a conscious being…years it wasn't going to get.

He smirked, raised his knife, and plunged it through the infant's chest, going all the way through its body, impaling it on its bed. The flesh was so feeble, put up so little resistance…most of the time, his prey was able to at least try to survive, but this tiny thing was so weak, so frail, it didn't even take much effort to destroy it. It was like all of mankind - impermanent, helpless and meaningless, adrift in the forces of the universe and bearing no significance.

Bakura grinned as the tiny body gave one great lurch and then went still before it could even make a sound. Oh yes, this was delicious. He pulled his knife out partway so that he could lift the remains in one hand, the blade still piercing it through and through, and stroked it so that fresh blood coated his fingers. Such softness…skin completely untoughened, untouched, and which would never get a chance to bear any mark of life. The restriction around the evil spirit's chest eased…but it didn't go away.

He still hurt.

He scowled. This was the most delightful kill he'd made in the over three thousand years he'd been walking this earth, and he couldn't even enjoy it fully! Why?! Why couldn't he just carry on with his purpose?!

The dark wraith reclaimed his knife and threw the small corpse against a wall in frustration. The slightly crunchy _thud_ this made was almost deafening in the nighttime stillness, and he leapt out the window before he could be found by the baby's parents - they would never have any idea what had taken their child from them, and Bakura liked that. But, as with everything else, he didn't like it as much as he should have.

_Are you ready to admit it now?_ Ryou asked, sounding almost as frustrated as Bakura. _You won't get as much enjoyment out of anything without Marik. You _need_ him._

_The bloody hell I do!_ Bakura snarled as he flew through the streets like the shadow of a tremendous bird. _I don't need anyone! I have _never_ needed anyone! I need solitude, I need to be alone, as I always have been!_

Suddenly, he stopped. _Solitude_. Yes, that was what he needed - he needed to get re-used to being alone. He could even do it in the same place he'd done it the first time: The deserts of Egypt. He could relive his first steps into the Darkness. Maybe doing so would allow him to shed his attachment to Marik as much as it had allowed him to shed his attachment to his family and village - never completely, no, but enough to be bearable, enough to make him enjoy his purpose as a champion of Darkness. He could start over, hurting and angry and alone and ready to make the world suffer with no one by his side, just like before.

_What about me?_ Ryou asked as the spirit reached this conclusion.

_I'll tend to your body's needs first,_ Bakura told him, _enough to get it up to full strength. I'll even let you enjoy most of the living yourself. Then I'll walk into the desert alone, and stay there as long as I can; you will be in the Millennium Ring and keep to yourself, so that I can think in peace. Does that sound like a fair deal?_

_It sounds like you're desperate to be a bloody idiot about this,_ Ryou replied, _but yes, it's fair enough._

_Good. I'm glad we can agree on something._ Bakura closed his eyes and transferred his consciousness into the Millennium Ring, allowing Ryou to take over. Back under the command of a human, the body came to life, all systems beating and pulsing again. Intense hunger signals hit Ryou's brain a few moments later, and he groaned and doubled over, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Bakura chuckled from within his dwelling of solid gold. _Whoops,_ he said. _Sorry about that, I forgot to get around to eating._

_Wanker,_ Ryou thought at him grumpily. _You didn't even get any money to buy food!_

_Quit your whining and I'll show you how to get it yourself,_ Bakura told his host.

Ryou blinked. _Are you helping me?_

_I'm helping _myself_,_ Bakura replied; _at the moment, that means helping you, too. So yes, but don't get any ideas._

Ryou sighed. _Of course._

~o~

Ryou took a few days to allow his flesh to live and work up its strength; Bakura helped him when he needed to from within the Millennium Ring, but let Ryou do the living - sometimes, he even let Ryou leave the Millennium Ring somewhere and go off on his own. It wasn't a matter of generosity. The truth was, not having an actual body made the visceral sensations of heartbreak much less vivid. He could focus on whatever Ryou was doing - or nothing - and exist in a sort of trance state, unfeeling, not hurting.

Well, not hurting badly, at least.

But at last, the day came when there was nothing left to do, and Ryou reluctantly gave his body back to Bakura, who took it with almost equal reluctance. It was an odd coincidence, but the ancient spirit registered that this day was the exact third anniversary of the day Marik had returned him to the world. Three years…had it really been so short a time?

The ancient spirit sighed and turned his back on civilization to face the vast expanse of Egyptian sands, forever his home. A few steps, and he could almost pretend he was walking away from Kuhl-Elna all over again. He walked straight ahead, no aim save a desire to find solitude; and as the day passed, the wasteland swallowed him.

The full moon and the stars were bright that night, almost as bright as the sun. A few trees appeared in the distance, and Bakura eventually found himself at a tiny oasis, one of the few that still littered the vast desert without having been obliterated by man. Such oases had been much more common during his life - they were vital to survival for a mortal in the empty wastes, and he couldn't help stopping at it as he would have back in his time, a wave of nostalgia washing over him and taking away a little bit of the ache in his heart. It really was just like the first time, and soon, he would be back to his old self again: cruel and alone.

Ryou's body was much more susceptible to illness than Bakura's had been when he'd been alive, but he took a drink of the untreated water all the same, just to enhance the illusion that he was returning to his past. He even laid back and allowed himself to rest in the sand for a bit - not sleep, just sort of doze, as humans sometimes did.

He looked up at the sky and thought about his existence. The stars had been different three thousand years ago - all of the universe was always changing, and he would get to see every moment of it until the end of this insignificant little planet. One planet…everything was really so very small. In an entire universe made up of Light and Dark in their eternal struggle, nothing he might do on this one little planet really mattered all that much. But every little bit added up to something, like drops of water in the ocean, or hydrogen atoms in a star - his purpose wasn't completely empty; it just wasn't as big as it felt sometimes. He wondered how many other planets were out there, in which Light and Dark waged their unending war through the hands of mortal consciousnesses. Were they all as ridiculous as this one?…Yes, yes they were, he decided - they were all equally transient, equally insignificant, in the end, no matter how many there might be.

Just like Marik.

An odd sense of contentment settled over the ancient thief as he pondered this. Whatever he might feel for Marik, whatever they might have ever had, it didn't really matter - nothing at all mattered all that much. His work to bring as much Darkness into the universe as he could for the rest of the days of mankind was worth so very little - not nothing, but so little; one mortal, and his feelings for that mortal, were just dust in the wind. They would pass, as everything eventually did. Even he, for all his talk of immortality, would pass one day, following all of mankind into oblivion…one solitary man was nothing. Nothing at all.

Bakura stood and shook the sand out of his hair, feeling strangely at peace. He would never forget Marik, but his solitude was eternal, and it was the natural way of things. A while out in the desert like this would do him good - it already was. He turned away from the little patch of water and plant life and resumed walking into the vast emptiness that would always be his home. Sand below, stars above, nothing between - this was the void of the world of living humans, and it reminded him of where he belonged.

Then, on the cool night wind, he thought he could just barely make out the faint sound of someone calling his name.

He ignored it and walked on, certain it was his imagination. Then it happened again, slightly louder this time, slightly less surreal. He slowed, but didn't stop, and waited for it to happen again.

"Bakura!"

There was no mistaking it: Someone really was calling his name. He stopped, and stood very still, as still as death, waiting but not wanting to welcome whoever was coming.

"Bakura!"

Now he recognized the voice: It was Marik. Of course. _How the bloody hell did he find me?_ Bakura wondered.

"Bakura!" Less of a shout to the skies and more direct now, the call was followed by the sounds of heavy breathing and sand moving under a person's feet.

Walking away wasn't an option. Bakura turned around to look at Marik, who was running towards him, half-stumbling in the unstable terrain.

"Kura," he called, panting. "Wait…please…"

"I told you I didn't want to see you again," Bakura told the boy coldly.

Marik continued to approach, a smile forming on his face. "Only because you're immortal and I'm not, remember?" he replied.

Bakura crossed his arms, as though he could physically shield his heart from Marik's presence. "Yes," he said, "and that's still true."

But Marik didn't even slow down until he was almost close enough to touch. Then he stopped, leaving a little space between them - just a little - as his smile widened. "Not for much longer," he told the dark spirit.

_What?_ "Marik, what the bloody hell are you…" The words died in Bakura's mouth, his arms dropping to his sides, as he registered the sight of what was hanging from a length of twine around Marik's neck. He looked back and forth between violet eyes and the inverted golden pyramid, unable to believe what he was seeing. There was no way, _no_ way the Millennium Puzzle could be whole and here - and with Marik, no less! It just couldn't be…

Marik's face split into a full grin. "The Millennium Puzzle," he said. "The most powerful Item of all, the one Atemu used to curse you into immortality, remember? It chose me."

Bakura shook his head. "Marik, that's impossible," he stated, not even registering the irony of just how human he sounded in that moment - shouting denial at what was right in front of him, as though words could counteract reality.

"No, it's true, it did!" Marik said earnestly. "I made a wish on the pieces, and the Puzzle came together in my hands, and-"

"Stop!" Bakura shouted. He couldn't hear this, couldn't believe this, didn't _dare_ to believe this - it couldn't be happening, there was just no way, it was a trick or a lie. Perhaps Marik had simply gone mad with grief; had he not nearly done the same? "I've no interest in your delusions, Marik!" he told the boy. "Leave me be!"

But Marik kept smiling. "It's no delusion," he said, and he put his hands on the Puzzle. Immediately, the ancient golden artifact began to glow, brightly, _too_ brightly - Bakura had only seen it shine so brightly one other time…

"What are you doing?" Bakura gasped, recognizing the sight, acknowledging in that moment that what he was seeing was real. "Marik, stop, tell me what you're doing!"

Marik's beautiful violet eyes went soft, his smile turning more serene. "I can be immortal now, just like you," he told his lover. "My wish…"

"Marik, think about this!" Bakura exclaimed. He knew what Marik intended to do, and it wasn't a good thing - eternity wasn't something to be pursued, not for a living mortal with many years ahead of him. It was a curse, not a blessing, and he didn't want Marik to suffer it too…

"Have you changed your mind?" Marik challenged. "Do you not want me to be able to join you in eternity anymore?"

"I…" Bakura remembered the words Marik had forced out of him with the Millennium Rod the night he'd fled. He _had_ said he'd wanted that, hadn't he? He hadn't really thought it could happen, though, especially not like this. But if it _could_ happen - as it seemed it already was - did he want it to? Did he want to push Marik away, or did he want to spend eternity with him? He shook his head, trying to find words for what he was feeling. "Of course I do," he managed at last. "It's just…eternity is a long time, Marik - and once you're in, you won't be able to get out. This isn't a choice you can make hastily!"

"Hastily?" The slowly intensifying light of the Millennium Puzzle threw Marik's face into stark relief as he laughed, almost hysterically. "Kura, my choice to join you in a life of Darkness _might_ have been hasty. This? This is all I've been able to think about ever since you walked away from me that night. I tried to move on, and I couldn't; fire doesn't warm me anymore, it just makes me colder. I even gave up, you know - I went to my sister and begged her to take me back to that old tomb so I could curl up and die. I would have, too, if the Puzzle hadn't chosen to grant my wish."

So they had both sought comfort, first in their evil pleasures, then in their pasts when that didn't work. They really were exactly the same…but that didn't make this right…

Bakura opened his mouth to continue protesting, when movement caught his attention. The glowing Puzzle was illuminating figures that swirled around him, the light reflecting off them as though they were physical, though no other light touched them. Everywhere were ancient faces, soon joined by ancient voices…faces and voices he suddenly realized he recognized.

"My village…" Bakura breathed in awe, his eyes widening. Faces he hadn't seen in so long, faces he'd almost forgotten, drifted in and out of sight. He could hear them whispering, but couldn't make out what they were saying; just hearing them, though, forced his heart to beat. Their ghostly eyes focused on him, full of wonder and gratitude and love, as though he was the most incredible thing in the world…

Marik smiled at him. "They guided me to you," he told his beloved. "They showed me how to solve the Puzzle, and they brought me here, to you, so that we could be together."

That explained how Marik had managed to find him, and the remnants of Bakura's fearful disbelief fell away. As he looked around, drinking in the sight of his people as hungrily as they were gazing back at him, a few particular faces seemed to gain more substance and press closer to him - faces he only saw in his rare nightmares: his family. His mother, his father, his sister, all with their mouths open as though desperate to speak to him. He wanted to speak to them, too, but he couldn't find his voice. A few of the whispers grew louder; though his family's jaws didn't actually move, he knew the voices he was hearing were coming out of their insubstantial mouths…and after a few moments, he understood them: _This is right, you can be with Marik, it's all right…_

His eyes widened even further, an odd stinging sensation creeping up along the corners, as he tried to speak. "I…"

His family smiled at him, and other voices started to rise through the cacophony: _Thank you for not forgetting us. Thank you for keeping our memories alive. We love you. We owe you. We have always watched over you. You have never been alone. We will be with you forever…_

"Marik!"

A new voice - a real person's voice - broke the spell, piercing the cocoon of magic and ancient spirits that enveloped the two of them. Bakura allowed his eyes to refocus on the physical world and look over Marik's shoulder to see who was coming, and saw Ishizu, running across the sand, almost as if she knew what was about to happen.

Marik turned his head to follow Bakura's gaze, and Bakura heard him call, "I should have known you'd find me, sister!" Then Marik turned fully, his back to Bakura now, as he spoke to all that was left of his blood family. Bakura couldn't quite make out what Marik said over the whispers of the people of Kuhl-Elna and the blood pounding in his ears, but Ishizu stumbled to a halt, her blue eyes glistening with sorrow.

"Marik…" he saw her say in response.

Her brother spoke again, and this time Bakura heard him: "Goodbye, sister."

Bakura remained respectfully silent until Marik turned back around to face him once more, the Millennium Puzzle glowing brighter than the moon around his neck, illuminating the ghosts that continued to swirl around them. "It's time," he told the one ancient spirit who still held onto an imitation of life.

"Marik…are you sure?" Bakura had to ask, uncertain if Marik even understood what he was about to do. "It won't be…It won't be like it is now. We won't be able to touch each other, unless we both find willing hosts. We might get separated, and we'd have no way of getting to each other again without help - you won't even have any means of figuring out where I am!"

But Marik's smile didn't waver. "I know," he said. "I don't care. Even being with you every now and then for the rest of eternity is better than living or dying without you at all."

Bakura had never cried, not in three thousand years; not even seeing his people and his family again just now had made him cry. But somehow, this child - this stupid, strange, half-crazy child, with his wide violet eyes and his beautiful face - reached into his soul with one gaze, one breath, and make him feel that sensation he'd seen in so many but never felt himself. His eyes stung, as though he had let them get too dry - but they weren't dry, they were wet, they were flooding, until a few drops of liquid slid down his cheeks…

Marik took a step closer, so that there was almost no space at all between them. "I love you," he told his partner.

He'd never actually said the words out loud before; the sound of them sent Bakura reeling, and he replied without meaning to: "I love you."

They pulled each other close and kissed, and the Puzzle's light began to shine brighter than the sun from between them. Bakura had been in the center of this storm of sheer power once before - but this time, instead of the sensation of forces beyond comprehension tearing him to pieces, he felt more like those forces were passing over him, leaving him untouched and focusing on Marik.

Bakura clung to Marik's fading body as the Puzzle reshaped reality. He quickly slid one hand up under the back of his shirt to run his fingers across those scars one last time - part of him hoped they would transfer to whoever Marik might take as host in the future, so that he could always feel them in the dark and know his lover, and part of him hoped they wouldn't, as those markings had always meant such unbearable pain for Marik. Either way, he treasured this one last caress, this one last kiss, holding tightly onto his beloved for every moment they had left together - in a way, doing exactly what Ryou had told him to do just a few days earlier.

It was a long, slow process, feeling Marik's flesh disintegrate in his arms. It had taken even longer when it had happened to him, but it was still very drawn-out, like grains of sand slowly falling through an hourglass, transcending the physical world to flow into a new pocket of reality - and Bakura felt each and every grain slip through his arms, down his chest, away from his lips…

And then, at last, it was over. Sunlight drove away the last of the shadow magic, and all that was left in front of Bakura was two golden objects in the sand.

The three-thousand-year-old half-human dropped to his knees. Marik had really done it. He'd given up life to spend eternity with him, as something like him. He looked between the two objects before him, the Rod and the Puzzle, and realized he wasn't sure which one held Marik's spirit now. He reached out and picked them both up, one in each hand, and looked at the Puzzle, then the Rod. Something in the Rod made the skin of his hand tingle, and he could feel a presence inside it.

He smiled. Of course Marik would choose the Rod. The Puzzle was just too iconic of Atemu - and besides, considering what it was, it was a risky thing to entrust his soul to. Bakura set the Puzzle back down, knowing Ishizu would pick it up and store it away safely. Then, on a sudden impulse, he raised the Rod and brought it down on the Puzzle, breaking it apart again - such power needed to be reserved for those worthy of it.

Then, he cradled the Millennium Rod in his arms, against the Millennium Ring that rested against his chest, and stood. He remembered how Marik had mentioned wanting to just be with him, not some stolen body, and he smiled again and brought his mouth close to the head of the golden scepter. "Now you can just be with me, like you wanted."

There was no response, but Bakura wasn't concerned - being turned into a disembodied spirit living in an ancient golden artifact of power was disorienting, and though Marik had had some experience with not having his own body, it would be a little while before he could come out of the Rod and interact with anyone or anything as easily as Bakura could.

Bakura turned back in the direction he'd been walking when Marik had found him. Yes, Marik would need some time…perhaps it was still best for him to take his walk in the desert, so he could help Marik figure things out.

The dark spirit started walking again. A moment later, a voice called across the sand and brought him to a halt.

"Bakura!"

The unfamiliar sound of Marik's sister saying his name made him turn and meet her eyes. He said nothing.

"Where's my brother?!" she cried, clearly confused and scared.

Bakura could have told her that he was dead and gone, just to hurt her, and part of him wanted to…but he knew that, despite everything, Marik loved his sister, and what mattered to Marik mattered to him - be it a thing, an idea, or a person. So instead, he simply lifted the Millennium Rod slightly and smiled at her without a word, then turned back and resumed walking.

He wasn't alone anymore. He would never even feel alone, ever again. His soul and Marik's would both walk this world for as long as mankind went on, and they would do it together.

They would be together forever.


End file.
